Paper Should Be Good Enough

Paper should be good enough--Chapter 9

"Ginny," Neville says to her in the common the next night, "I hate this. I really do."

"What?" The roar of the common room is nearly impossible to hear over, which makes this a good time to breach this topic.

"I hate this. Ron is ignoring Harry, Harry is trying to convince him that what's happening isn't happening, and I think he's going to ask me next. He's already gone after Seamus and Dean for information. Ron's smarter than you two think, you know."

"I know he's smart. Neville, please don't tell him. We're telling him the night of the dance, only because any time before would just about kill Hermione." Not that Ginny would mind that, of course. "It's really important that you do not tell him."

Neville bites his lip and leans closer to her. "Did you see that bruise on Seamus's face?" She nods; she remembers Parvati asking him, and Seamus quickly brushing the topic away. "Ron hit him, not too hard, mind you, but Seamus is Seamus--I mean, he's a bloody Beater and all. If Ron hit me, well, you know... look, I don't want to get destroyed by Ron. Harry got a warning, but I won't. Ron'll just punch first and ask questions later."

"Did I hear my name?" She looks up and sees Ron there, half-grinning, half-scowling. Neville quickly goes silent, shrugs. "Well, all right then. Ginny, could I talk to you for half a second?"

She hesitates, but Tom pushes her on. "S-Sure," she stutters, and stands. Ron leads her to the chair nearest the fire. "What is it, Ron?"

"It's about Harry."

She rolls her eyes. "That again?"

"Yes." Ron swallows hard. "I really was convinced that Harry was going to try to--I mean--that he was going to--"

"Be interested in me, you mean?" Ginny dissuades herself from the truth and puts on an innocent act.

"Erm, yes. And as it is, I've been asking about a bit, and... has he? Shown interest in you, I mean, more than usual." Ron presses a hand to his forehead. "I know what I mean, it's just..."

She puts a finger to his lips. "Don't worry about it, Ron," she says. "I can handle myself. I'm all grown up now."

"That's what I'm worried about." He scratches his arm, and the movement catches her eye. His Dark Mark, it must be... how sick, how twisted my brother is. I miss him. "You're just so different lately, really, and I was just thinking... it was silly for me to think so."

"It's all right, Ron," she says. "I understand."

His face is wan, but he tries a grin. "All right. Thanks for making me feel better about this." He pulls her into a hug, which she doesn't resist, but doesn't participate in. He leaves her, and she goes back to Neville.

"Don't you worry," she says. "I bought us one day's time."

--------

Harry tosses her a Chocolate Frog. "I've got plenty, Hermione gave me a box." Ginny gives him a look to suggest that perhaps another topic would be favorite. "All right, but do you want it? If not, I'll take it."

Ginny is indignant. "Of course I want it," she says, opens it up, and bites the frog's head off. She takes a look at the card. "How many bloody Dumbledore cards are there?" She tosses it into the air and Banishes it into the fireplace.

It is ten-thirty, and they are in the common. They have books open to justify their reason for being there.

"I don't know what to do with my hair tomorrow," she says. She flips through Teen Witch Weekly, and flinches as she turns the page. "Celestina never should have cut her hair short. Ew."

"Let me see that," Harry says, and Ginny tosses him the magazine. "You read this muck?" he says, and flips through it a bit.

Ginny crosses her arms. "This muck is very entertaining, I'll have you know."

Harry pauses. "I can't believe it." He shows a page to Ginny and it folds out to show a centerfold picture of Harry himself. He sighs, folds it back up, and tosses her the magazine.

"What do you expect? You're a famous teenage boy." She shrugs, then rips out the centerfold. "When did they take this picture of you?"

Harry shakes his head. "That's the scary part; I'm not sure. Perhaps they Polyjuiced someone into me, I did just get my hair cut."

Ginny grins. "I could give this to Colin. He's been trying to get this shot since third year."

Harry groans. "Don't!"

"Well... all right." She puts the centerfold back into the magazine. She leans closer, lowers her voice. "How are we going to do this?"

Harry looks startled. "Er--" He considers. "We corner Ron and Hermione. We tell them. That's about it."

"And after? Ron's probably going to have a fit, as will Hermione when she realizes that you cheated on her."

Harry ignores the cut. "We could Petrify them and explain."

"Yes, that'll go over well. Especially if a teacher catches us practicing first year curses on our friends."

"No need to be snide." Harry throws another Chocolate Frog at her. "What do you think we should do?"

"I think that you should talk to Hermione, and I'll talk to Ron. It'll be better if all of that anger isn't in one room, and I think Ron would punch you."

"You say that like you think I couldn't take his punch."

"I don't think you can take his punch if he's just found out you're snogging his little sister. Did you see that bruise on Seamus's face? That was a warning."

Harry defers. "All right," he says. "Let's do that."

"All right." She flips through the magazine a bit more. "How do you think I should do my hair?"

"I don't care," he says. She turns to him to give him a piece of her mind when he says, "You'll be the prettiest girl there anyway."

She throws the magazine at him. "Shut up," she says, blushing, hiding her real fear.

In one day, I'm going to kill my brother.

--------

She takes most of tomorrow's breakfast to assess Ron's habits, tics and weaknesses. He was right-handed, of course she knew that, and had quite a blind spot when they had played Quidditch on his left side.

Do I tell him that I know? Of course, of course, he'll know anyway, he knows because he tried to hurt me, right Tom?

Tom's voice, another voice in her head, a wise guide, a conscience. He knows you know. Just do it. The minute he goes off to see Harry, he will kill him. You must kill Ron, then tell Harry what was going on. Immediately. Do you remember the potion you made?

This confuses her. What potion?

It's red, in a vial, on a chain. It's around your neck. I enchanted it so that only you and I can see it. You must give that potion to Harry during the dance--it's an antidote to the slow-acting poison I'm sure Ron will be using on him during dinner. It reacts immediately, so if you do this correctly, Harry will be safe. You can't let it touch your skin, it's caustic to anyone who hasn't had the poison.

She's still confused. What about the writing on the tag? "Five drops if he doesn't, the whole thing if he does?"

If he does what you've told him to do, you must give him the whole thing. I'm certain Ron will give Harry more poison if he hasn't died by that point. If he doesn't tell Ron, then five drops will suffice.

All right, Tom. I understand.

Neville nudges her. "So how's Muggle Studies?"

"Erm, good I guess. It's quite amusing. It's too bad I can't keep the book, Dad would love it." She quirks a smile. "How's Advanced Herbology?"

He winces. "Quite more difficult than it sounds. Wolfsbane and shrivelfig seeds haunt me in my sleep."

"Too bad." She pokes her food around the plate; she hasn't had the real urge to eat in a long time, despite healer's orders. She takes a half-hearted bite of hashbrowns, swallows, and sighs. "How's your grandmother?"

Neville sighs exaggeratedly. "As she usually is. I'll live."

She laughs, but there's still that small part of her, doubting and brooding.

One day. Twenty-four short hours.

"Have you got a dress yet, Ginny?" Hermione asks her.

Ron swallows whatever he's been chewing. "Yeah, have you?"

"Has she," Dianthe says from two seats away from her. "It's gorgeous."

"Neville, you lucky devil," Seamus says, and tosses a bit of sausage at him. "Lavender's got a dress, certainly, but can't even decide on the proper hairstyle!" He pretended to primp himself in a mirror.

"Git!" Lavender throws back immediately, along with an airborne piece of egg, which promptly stops the pantomiming.

Ginny registers all this amusing stuff at only a subconscious level, but smiles as she pictures each and every one of those spiders she practiced on twitching, falling and dying.

Soon.