The Scarlett Letter

A/N: Okay, sorry that Draco is out of character in this chapter. Then again, he's been OOC for the entire fic, so if you don't mind so far, you won't mind now. So start reading already. Consider this my Christmas present to you for the reads and reviews I've gotten so far.

Disclaimer: Think about it. Every single story on this site doesn't belong to the author. So what makes you think this one actually belongs to me? Oh, but I do own the poems, so there!

Chapter Seven

Scarlett Is Not Necessarily a Shade of Crimson

It took McGonagall five full rewrites before Dumbledore finally approved of the letter she was to send to Scarlett:

Dear Madam:

The staff of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is concerned about your influence on the students. Your newsletter does not induce an effective atmosphere for teaching and studying. We know you cannot discontinue The Scarlett Letter altogether, but we cordially request that you at least withhold future issues from our student body. We must also ask you not to grace Hogwarts and/or Hogsmeade with your fine presence, as it may conflict with the students' ability to pay attention during classes. We would very much appreciate this.

Sincerely,

Staff of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Needless to say, McGonagall was very disappointed with the final copy. Her first draft was nearly two feet long. It detailed each offensive influence that Scarlett was inflicting upon the student body and told her that she absolutely MUST quit producing her newsletter. Then it finished up with dire threats of prosecution if she failed to comply with their requests.

Dumbledore had rejected it, damn him.

He had also forced her to include the reference to Scarlett's "fine presence," when it had originally described said presence as "your horrid pestilence." McGonagall swore to herself that she'd never forgive him for it.

So she rewrote and rewrote, and on Sunday night he finally allowed her take the final copy of the letter up to the Owlery and send it to Scarlett. No doubt it would reach her in the morning.

~~~~~

Whether the letter reached Scarlett or not, it certainly was unable to keep the sixth issue of The Scarlett Letter from arriving, much to the boys' delight. An excerpt from this edition:

Wonderful news!!!

The British wizards have decided to start the nation's first magical porn industry! They have been in conference over the matter ever since your fine letters to them the week before last. And just last night, on Sunday the 19^th of January, they have made their decision public.

The British Wizarding Institution of Pornography (BWIP) has launched itself into business. And they are relying on me for initial revenue! They have written to me, and I have signed up for four movies: "Flesh Calls", "The Wettest Teabag", "The Correct Wand Movements", and "A Bed of Magic". It's a good thing that shooting for "The Endless Chasm" and "Grand Bâton" end this week--otherwise I'd be absolutely swamped!

Please send letters of gratitude to BWIP, and also send them some startup donations. Maybe if you give them enough money, they can up the budgets of my four new movies! They're already investing a great deal in my 500,000 galleon advance.

If it weren't for you guys, all this would have never happened. Thank you so much! I love you all!

~~~~~

At breakfast time Scarlett received, amongst her deluge of fan mail, a brief, irritated letter:

Scarlett,

In your last letter you said, "You must be thinking REALLY hard about me." I do believe you meant to say "hardly." The fact is this: I simply do not want to submit to The Scarlett Letter. However appealing you may seem, I do not want to become one of your many correspondents, and I certainly don't want to be on your To Do List. Now stop writing to me, or I'll tell Hermione on you.

Very sincerely,

Harry Potter

**********

Needless to say, the boys could only talk about one subject the entire day: Scarlett's success in the new British Wizarding Institution of Pornography. Much to the irritation of their teachers, many of the males spent their first class of the day sending enthusiastic letters of congratulations both to Scarlett and to BWIP.

But Gregory Goyle shared none of their glee. Ever since the disastrous standup on Saturday, he was crushed in spirit. He had stayed at Hogsmeade well past dark before he headed back to Hogwarts and ran into Filch, who gave him detention for being out so late. Gregory then went straight to bed, where he cried himself to sleep and slept all through Sunday.

Now here he was on Monday morning in Potions with red eyes and a very glum expression on his round face. And Draco was asking what was wrong with him.

"What's wrong with you?" Draco asked Gregory in a whisper. "You look like your best friend died."

Gregory slumped down in his seat and put his head in his arms. "Don't talk to me,"
he mumbled.

"You aren't still upset over that Scarlett thing, are you?" Draco hissed back. "Because it's not really much to be upset about."

"You wouldn't understand," Gregory whispered miserably. "You don't know what it's like to love someone--truly love someone--only to have them blow you off like that. I can't help thinking: was it something I did? Why did she desert me?" A tear leaked from the corner of his eye and fell into his cauldron.

"Ah, get over her," Draco advised. "She's not worth it."

Another tear fell from Gregory's eye. "She's worth it to me," he whispered to himself.

Draco stopped listening to Gregory and instead paid attention to Snape as he finished taking role. "You all should be prepared to make the Memory Potion today," the greasy-haired professor told him class. "I expect each one of you to get the potion perfect. Woe betide anyone who fails to do this."

And, with a wave of his wand, the instructions wrote themselves on the blackboard. Gregory sighed and reached down into his schoolbag to pull out his pestle while Vincent disappeared to get potion ingredients enough for the two of them and Draco.

When Gregory found his pestle, he also found his morning mail, which he had not yet read. He pulled them both out and laid them on his desk. He had a letter from his mom, another one from his dad, and another one from. . .

Gregory gasped. He didn't even notice when Vincent laid down a pile of potion ingredients on his desk. He could only gape at the return address on the letter. For it was from Scarlett.

With trembling hands, Gregory opened the envelope and pulled out the letter.

Dear Gregory (it read),

I cannot tell you how horrible I feel. I have never felt so inadequate, nor so betrayed, in my entire life. I was really looking forward to our date on Saturday, more than anything else this entire month. I prepared for it ever since I got your first letter. I wanted everything perfect, and I was damned if I wasn't going to make it so.

This was before I heard what you did with Pansy Parkinson. I heard how you were all over her during that party on Friday night, and how you made out with her and nearly had sex with her. I was so hurt that I had a severe nervous breakdown. I didn't sleep a single moment that night, simply because I couldn't stop crying.

There was only one thing I could think: how could Gregory betray me? What happened to the kind Gregory, the loyal Gregory, the Gregory who loved me with all his heart? In your first letter you said, "I won't be playing any games with you, because you are too priceless." I must have reread that a hundred times before this, then a hundred times after. If I'm so priceless, then why did you treat me like filth? Am I just an object to you, something you can play around with until I lose your amusement?

You know I already have low self-esteem. I hide it the best I can, but I actually confided in you about it. I thought you might understand; I thought you might know how to help me. It hurt me to find out just how wrong I was.

I was so upset I couldn't possibly come to Hogsmeade. Heck, I even cancelled a photo shoot, I was feeling so awful. Outwardly I continue to act happy and cheerful, just like the porn star I've always been. But inwardly I carry the wound that has torn me apart--the wound that you, my dearest Gregory, gave me. I hardly know if I will ever be able to get over this.

Love,

Scarlett

Tears streamed down Gregory's face and into his cauldron as he read through the letter once, then twice, then a third time. Remorse such as he'd never felt before burned in his veins and stung in his eyes. He had made an awful mistake, and he had most certainly paid for it. Scarlett said she might never get over this. Oh, he hoped that wasn't true! He was never more sorry for anything in his entire life!

It was a full fifteen minutes before Vincent jabbed Gregory in his ribs and hissed, "Your potion!" Gregory jumped and quickly shoved the letter into his back. Then he began chopping up the rabbit's feet necessary for the first step.

Try as he might, he couldn't get his mind off Scarlett's letter. He was just beginning to grasp how much he hurt her, and how much that one moment of lust over Pansy had destroyed the trust Scarlett had in him. By the time he started composing his apology in his head, the rabbit's feet were chopped to powder.

Gregory dumped the rabbit's feet into his cauldron, where they immediately combusted in a thin sheet of flame that flew halfway to the ceiling and startled everyone half to death. Even Draco let out a scream of shock.

Snape swept over to Gregory's cauldron and glared down at the lump of charred ash. "Idiot boy!" he hissed. "Can you even read? The directions said to chop the rabbit's feet, not to grind them to a powder! And, judging by this violent reaction. . . holy Merlin, have you been crying into your cauldron?!"

Everyone within hearing range looked up at these last words and stared at Gregory, their eyes wide and searching. The poor Slytherin wanted nothing more than to die right there in his seat.

Why did everything bad happen to him? Why??

**********

One would think that, what with Scarlett's sixth newsletter and her new conquest in the porn industry, that the girls would be even more bitter during their detention that afternoon. As it turned out, however, Pansy arrived in excellent spirits.

"Why are you so cheerful?" Lavender asked. As luck would have it, she, Pansy, Parvati, Romilda, Daphne, and Luna all ended up being assigned the same job--which was where their luck ended, because that particular job happened to include pulling out all the rotten siding in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and replacing it with fresh wood.

"Because it's a nice day," Pansy replied evasively. "Don't you ever feel happy on nice days?"

"Not when I'm stuck in a waterlogged bathroom, I'm not," Lavender answered. She wrinkled her nose as she pull away the sideboard with the back of her hammer. The slat of wood crumbled into a soggy pile, which Luna scooped into her Bottomless Trash Bag.

"That's just because you haven't had any good news to cheer you up recently," Pansy said with a wicked smile.

"Did you finally have sex with Gregory?" Luna piped up. "I know you've been trying to seduce him ever since you broke up with Draco."

"Mmmm, no such luck," Pansy replied, though even this thought couldn't faze her. "It's just that I heard a wonderful bit of news from Hannah Abbot, who in turn heard it from Hermione Granger."

"Just tell us what it is!" Parvati pleaded, unable to bear the suspense.

Pansy's smile widened. "I have heard that Scarlett has gotten a letter from our wonderful teachers."

Romilda perked up instantly. "What did it say?" she asked. "Anything good?"

"Naturally," Pansy said as she pulled away another sideboard. "The letter requested that Scarlett revoke the subscriptions from everyone at Hogwarts, and that she not visit the school nor the village."

"Excellent!" Lavender said happily. "We're by no means rid of that scarlet whore, but it's a step in the right direction."

"I'll bet McGonagall thought it up," Daphne figured shrewdly. "She's been going spare over Scarlett this past week."

"If she did, then I forgive her," Romilda said emphatically, "even though she fucked up our nude photo shoot."

"I wish we could do another shoot like that," Luna lamented calmly as she scooped some more rotten wood into her trash bag. "David and I had such fun; we're thinking of doing another for just the two of us."

"David?" Pansy asked her.

"He was my stud during the shoot," Luna explained. "Now he's my boyfriend. He's invited me over to his place for the summer. I can't wait to see the Famripples in his field!"

Pansy didn't quite know what to say to this, so she settled with a simple, "Er, nice," then went back to pulling out baseboards.

At that moment the door to the bathroom swung open, and a most unlikely person stepped in. The girls stared at him for a moment, but Luna raised a hand in greeting and said, "Hello, Roger."

"Hi," he said. "Er, so you guys are the leaders of The Conspiracy?"

"Yes, we are," Pansy said warily.

"Except for me," Luna put in.

"Yes, expect for Luna," Pansy amended.

"Good," Roger Davies said. "Hannah Abbot said I'd find you here."

"Well, you have," Pansy said. "And what do you want? Certainly you aren't here to help us pull away the rotten baseboards."

"No, I'm not," Roger said. "I'm here to tell you something."

Pansy waved her hand for him to continue. "Tell away," she said as she pushed a pile of rotten wood

towards Luna.

"It's really very valuable information," Roger said. "Just because I'm in Ravenclaw doesn't mean I don't have Slytherin tendencies. I'm not giving this information away for free."

"And what exactly is this information about that makes it so palatable to us in particular?" Pansy asked, reserved.

"It's about Scarlett."

That certainly got the girls interested. They each perked up and stopped their work. Even Luna inclined her serene expression towards the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain. "About Scarlett, is it?" Daphne said, a slight smile creasing her face. "What about her?"

"I said the information wasn't for free," Roger reminded her.

"Of course," Daphne said. "And what exactly would you require of us before you gave us this information?"

"You know I've been pushing for Hogwarts to get a new set of school brooms," Roger said. "I expect you and your club to help me raise the proper amount of money."

"But that's nearly five hundred galleons!" Parvati exclaimed. "Certainly the information isn't worth that much??"

"It's less than four galleons per person," Roger said reasonably. "And yes, the information is worth that much."

"Is it?" Parvati said, half to herself. She turned to the other girls and said, "What do you guys think?"

"Four galleons per person isn't a bad deal," Daphne said logically, "especially seeing as all the girls will learn the information. We can get them to give us the 500 galleons before we tell them."

"Actually," Roger piped up, "I've already collected 100 galleons so far. I only need 400 more."

"Wicked," Daphne said. "I'll bet my parents would help pay for better Hogwarts school equipment. I'll send them a letter."

"So it's a deal?" Roger said, raising his wand.

The girls looked at each other and nodded. They all raised their own wands to meet Roger's, and they said, "Deal."

A soft flash of green light passed between the seven wands before fading away. The second they put their wands away Pansy said, "Okay, so what's the information?"

"I'll show you," Roger said. "Um, is there any dry spot in this entire bathroom?"

"It's Moaning Myrtle's bathroom," Romilda said, rolling her eyes. "Do you really think there'd be a single inch of floor that wasn't covered in water?" However, she pulled out her wand and cast a quick Drying Spell on the floor beside her.

"Thanks," Roger said, and pulled all six issues of The Scarlett Letter, plus a copy of the message he sent to Scarlett. "It's like this--I don't think Scarlett's truly who she says she is. . ."

And he spent fifteen minutes showing them everything he addressed in his letter to Scarlett. The six girls pored over the different photos, their eyes growing wider as Roger continued his explanations. Their eyes weren't the only part of them that widened; by the end of his rationalization each one of them were wearing big smiles.

"So you think it's true?" Romilda asked Roger excitedly. "You think Scarlett's a fake?"

"Whether it's true or not, it certainly does seem suspicious," Roger said. "Do you know what else I found out? You know her five movies she keeps referring to?"

"The French porn and Muggle porn?" Pansy said.

"Yeah, that stuff," Roger said. "I tried to find out more about those films, and guess what? I couldn't find anything! I even wrote to the French Wizarding porn industry, and they wrote back saying that they're making none of the movies Scarlett mentioned. Now that's what I call suspicious."

"Suspicious enough to start a valid rumor?" Pansy said wickedly.

"Most definitely," Daphne agreed. "Thanks a million, Roger. We'll get those 400 galleons to you as soon as possible. Ha, Scarlett's going to pay for ever letting her newsletter get into Hogwarts!"

**********

At that moment the Hogwarts teachers were starting their weekly staff meeting. McGonagall once again took a seat by Professor Flitwick, and Dumbledore started off the meeting. "I do believe you had a complaint to make, Severus?" he said lightly.

"I do believe I already made it," Snape countered crossly.

"It must have slipped my mind," the headmaster said easily. McGonagall noticed with growing dread that that mischievous twinkle was back in his eyes. Ugh, it was the same twinkle that preceded the moment where she had to tell the whole staff about the incident in her Transfiguration classroom.

"It couldn't have possibly slipped your mind," Snape insisted.

"Ah, but it did," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "I'm getting old; please don't make me feel any worse about it."

Snape ground his teeth together in frustration. "Can you remember nothing we talked about this morning?" he said in a low growl.

"Something about ghosts," Dumbledore said. "Was it the Nearly-Headless Nick and the Fat Friar?"

"Nearly-Headless Nick and Moaning Myrtle," Snape corrected him. "The Fat Friar is a friar, for heaven's sake--he'd never do something like that."

"Like what?" Dumbledore inquired.

"I refuse to repeat what I have already told you," Snape said stubbornly. McGonagall couldn't help hold back a giggle. She was glad she wasn't the only one who had to suffer such embarrassment.

"If there is something going on in Hogwarts that worries you, I must know," Dumbledore pushed him, the twinkle growing with each passing moment. "How can I fix the problem if you won't tell me?"

"I've already told you!" Snape snarled.

"I've already forgotten," Dumbledore rejoined. "Please re-enlighten me."

Snape let out a sigh. "It wasn't much," he muttered, barely loud enough for the others to hear. "Simply put, I ran across Moaning Myrtle, er. . . making love to Nearly-Headless Nick in my dungeon last night."

The teachers giggled just as they had for McGonagall. She giggled even louder than the others, glad not to be on the receiving end of such humiliation this time.

"Oh dear," Dumbledore tutted. "I'll have to speak with them. They must move their lovemaking to another dungeon. We can't have the students walking in on them, after all."

Snape rubbed his eyes wearily. "I was rather hoping you would tell them to stop altogether."

"Oh no," Dumbledore said quickly. "That wouldn't do at all. I have no right to stop them, as long as they keep away from the students during their intimate moments. I'm sure Nearly-Headless Nick hasn't had sex since his one-night stand with the Gray Lady 60 years back."

The teachers looked sick at this thought, and none of them dared to ask Dumbledore how he came across this information. Flitwick stirred in his chair, then ventured, "Er, I didn't know ghosts could have sex."

"Only with other ghosts," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Naturally, they can't conceive, but they can do most everything else. It's really quite fascinating. Maybe you should do a study on it, if Nick and Myrtle would be willing."

McGonagall quickly cleared her throat. "I have sent the letter to Scarlett," she butted in, eager to discontinue the previous conversation. "We must now await a reply."

"I can barely contain my impatience," Dumbledore said calmly. "What's next on the agenda? I believe we needed to discuss the upcoming board meeting on Friday."

"But--" McGonagall stopped short. She was rather insulted that Dumbledore have moved on so quickly from the Scarlett issue--she had been hoping to release yet another diatribe against the porn star. But then she realized that, however much she wanted to continue discussing Scarlett, she actually had nothing new to add.

So she sat patiently as her interest in the rest of the staff meeting waned down to nothing. It was at this point in time that she pulled out a piece of parchment and wrote on it:

Filius, let's play a game.

And she pushed it over to Flitwick, who picked it up, read it, and wrote back:

What kind of game?

She smiled wickedly. The conversation had been established.

It's really quite a fun little game. I try to guess your measurements. The first number is length, and the second number is width. So it's length x width. Got it?

Yes indeed.

Okay, then. I'll start at 12x4.

Both lower.

10x3.5

Lower.

9x3

Lower.

Still? 8x2.75

Lower.

Um, okay. 7.5x2.5

Lower.

7x2

The first number is lower. The second number is higher.

6.1x2.1

Close enough. It's 6.08x2.11.

Oh. Um. . . Um. . .

Um, what?

Is that. . . Er, I mean. . . you yourself are only 3 feet tall. I guess I shouldn't expect, um. . . never mind.

What? Is 6.08x2.11 not big enough?

No, that's not what I meant! It's. . . I don't know.

It's plenty big enough!

Oh, I'm sure. It's just. . . um. . .

What?? Gosh, how many inches do you expect a guy to have??

. . . . . . . . . INCHES??? We're talking INCHES????

Um, yes. I thought you knew that.

Sweet Merlin! I thought we were talking centimeters! How many centimeters are in an inch?

2.54 exactly.

Here, McGonagall did a bit of quick math on the edge of the parchment before writing back:

So it comes out to 15.44x5.36 centimeters. . .

That sounds right.

. . . . . . WOW. . . . . .

Heh heh.

I mean to say, WOW!!!!

Stop it, you're embarrassing me.

Merlin's balls, I don't think I'll be able match that.

Then be glad that you don't have a penis to compare to mine. Do you want me to guess your measurements in inches or centimeters?

How about centimeters?

Sounds good. . .

And so it went.

**********

Gregory Goyle spent all of Defense Against the Dark Arts writing his apology letter to Scarlett. He often spent five minutes or longer on a single sentence, and he wrote out three drafts before he finally decided it was worth sending to the porn star he loved.

Dearest Scarlett,

I don't know how I can offer an apology sincere enough to cover the hurt I gave you. When I read your letter, I felt so bad that I seriously wanted to die. When I realized just how much I hurt you, I felt so horribly remorseful that I cried. I cried so much my teacher even saw me.

I made some bad decisions at the party. First of all, I shouldn't have touched the spiked punch. The alcohol has a way of muddling the brain and confusing things inside the mind. I didn't want to touch Pansy, but my mind tricked me into thinking it might be okay.

Which comes to my next bad decision: I should have never hung around Pansy in the first place. I know that she is a very Slytherin person, and that she has seduced people in the past (Draco, for example, back in our third year). I merely wanted her help in hooking up Draco and her friend Daphne, but perhaps I shouldn't have even done that, because it was right after that when Pansy started kissing me.

And I should have never let her continue kissing me. I should have broken away from her before she dragged me towards the bedroom. I was in no state to resist her after that, what with the alcohol I consumed. I should have run away from her long before she began.

We didn't have sex. I accidentally stepped on a sock that by friend Vincent had cursed, and I began throwing up profusely. Pansy left soon after that, and it was at that very moment that I was sorry for what I had done. I had failed you. I had betrayed your trust. And then I made my last mistake of the night: I decided not to tell you. I thought that, as long as I was penitent and never did it again, it would be alright. Boy, was I wrong. I should have confessed the truth while I still had the chance. You might have forgiven me then.

If there's one thing I'm glad for, it's Vincent's cursed sock. When I touched it, I started throwing up everywhere. That kept me from having sex with Pansy, and I consider it a Divine second chance. I have another try, and this time I will do the right thing.

So I ask--no, beg--you, my divine Scarlett, to give me a second chance. I am sorry from the bottom of my soul for what I have done to you. I never meant to hurt you. But, through my own idiocy, I have. Draco (among others) has always said I am stupider than a retarded Muggle, and now I've proven him right. But I promise that I'll become smarter. With you by my side, I can be the best person I can be. Please forgive me.

With all my heart and love,

Gregory

He left class as soon as the bell rang and headed up to the Owlery. Then, still sniffling a little, he attached his letter to the leg of his wide-eyed tawny owl and pushed him out the window, figuring that Scarlett might get his apology by dinnertime.

~~~~~

Gregory's apology did indeed reach Scarlett by 6:00 that evening. And, coincidentally, a letter of her own flew into Hogwarts at the same moment and landed at Roger Davies's place at the Ravenclaw table:

Dear Roger,

Your comment about me being an 80-year-old freak was partly true; I am not 80, but I am indeed a freak. I just wanted to tell you that you have a good eye and a sharp wit (I suppose you must have made it into Ravenclaw). You are a smart young man, much more so than the rest of my fans.

Being smart, however, isn't enough. I also wanted to give you some words of wisdom. You think you have found out a secret of mine. Well, you haven't. You have discovered the problem, but you have none of the answers. Remember this: things are not always as they seem, even when you DO get all the answers.

Cordially,

Scarlett

**********

The girls had a meeting on Monday night in the Room of Requirement. On Tuesday morning they had everything straightened out (including the 400 galleons, which Pansy delivered to Roger Davies at breakfast). Each girl was to tell at least one boy the new rumor. It was an easy idea (it had taken only a minute to think up and arrange), and by evening the news would have spread all throughout the school.

And so the girls spread throughout the school, the new rumor going with them. . .

~~~~~

At first-block Transfiguration Eloise Midgen took a seat next to Vincent Crabbe. "Guess what I heard, Vincent," she said, holding back a contrived giggle.

"Um. . . Dumbledore's retiring?"

"Not in a million years," Eloise said. "Nope, it's about Scarlett."

She had piqued his interest. Vincent looked up and said, "What about her, Eloise?"

"It's sensational!" Eloise said with relish, leaning a bit closer to his ear. "See, Scarlett's really a fake."

"What?" Vincent said, quite taken aback. "No, she isn't."

"Ah, but she's been very sneaky about it," Eloise explained. "She's done a good job on her photos, but they're all of different people. Sometimes the eye color changes, or the length of her nose, or even--" here she leaned directly into Vincent and dropped her voice to a whisper--"the color of her pubic hair."

Vincent's eyes widened. He broke away from Eloise and dived into his schoolbag and pulled out one of his issues of The Scarlett Letter. He flipped back and forth between the nude pictures, his eyes growing larger each second. "Holy-Merlin-in-a-thong!" he gasped. "You're right! See, in that picture she has blond pubes, but in the next photo it's sandy brown, and in the next one it's black! Whoa, and in this picture she has a bikini wax--no hair at all!"

"And the texture of her hair seems to change with alarming frequency," Eloise pointed out helpfully. "And her lips look a lot less plump in this picture than in the last."

"And her breasts change size!" Vincent gasped. "See, she must have a D-cup in that photo, but in this one near the back she seems barely a C-cup! Wow, who would have guessed?"

"I know," Eloise said with a grin. "Isn't it strange?"

Vincent nodded, clearly thinking hard. "Yes, but. . ."

"But what?"

Vincent pondered his answer. "Couldn't she have. . . changed her features around for fun? She is a witch, after all, and she says she's good at Body Enhancement spells. She could have used some of those, or possibly a Glamour Spell. You never know."

Eloise nodded assent. "True," she said. "You never know." She left this last comment open-ended on purpose.

~~~~~

In second-block Potions Orla Quirke approached Euan Abercrombie. "What's up?" she asked him.

"Not much," Euan replied, pulling out his Potions book.

Orla didn't bother with a preamble, but jumped right into the matter. "Did you know that Scarlett's a fake?"

Euan was a bit startled by the suddenness of her speech. "What? Scarlett, a fake? Why?"

"Because you can see it in her pictures. Do you have a copy of your magazine here with you?"

"Nope, it's in my dormitory," Euan said, now setting up his cauldron.

"Oh, well," Orla said. "But you can still see it. Her body changes in between shots."

"What do you mean by 'changes?' " Euan asked, clearly confused.

"Well. . . her body, you know. Sometimes her hair and her. . . um. . . nose, was it? And something about her lips. And something about. . . oh gosh, I forget. Something to do with. . . hehheh. . . a certain part of her body."

"A certain part of her body?" Euan said, now clearly intrigued. "Which part?"

"Heehee. . ." Orla was blushing.

"The, um, breasts?" Euan's voice dropped to a whisper. "Her butt? Her. . . her. . . private place?" He giggled after naming each body part.

"The last one," Orla said, giggling and blushing at the same time. "The hair on the last one, to be more exact. It. . . changes color."

Euan burst into a fit of giggles, as did Orla. The other second-years in the room turned their heads to look at them, but they still couldn't seem to control themselves. Even after Snape started role call was it hard to keep a straight face.

~~~~~

"You've heard about Scarlett, haven't you?" Luna asked Harry at lunch today.

"How can you go a day at this place without hearing about her?" Harry said, a bit exasperated at the idea.

"No, there's a new rumor about her," Luna clarified. "She's really a veilabat."

"Ah, is she now?" Harry said, hiding a smile.

"Yes!" Luna's eyes were now quite wide (wider than normal, that is). "I've told everyone about those red bikinis she wears. They gave her away from the start."

"What's she done this time?" Harry said, smiling wryly.

"She's tricked all the boys in Hogwarts, that's what," Luna said earnestly. "If you look at her pictures, you'll see that her body parts seem to change. Especially her pubic hair."

Harry dearly wished that Luna had the reserve to lower her voice when she said "pubic hair." Sadly, she didn't. "Um. . ." he said, "my goodness. How interesting. But you must remember that I don't have a copy of The Scarlett Letter."

"Oh, right," Luna said quickly. "You'd only want to look at Ginny's pubes."

Could she have said it any louder? Harry winced and whispered, "Maybe this isn't the best place to talk about it." Some of the younger kids they sat amongst had turned their head at the sound of "pubes."

"How often do you think about them--I mean her?" Luna asked calmly.

"I think about her quite often," Harry hissed back. "But I don't think about. . . about them."

"When you say them, I assume you mean pubes," Luna said, entirely too loudly for Harry's comfort. "You never think about them?"

Harry was bright red by now. "Gosh, I. . ." His Gryffindor nobility couldn't allow him to lie. "I. . . never." Okay, so it allowed him a little white lie. Besides, he didn't want to date Ginny for her pubic hair. He certainly wasn't that shallow! "Why are we even talking about this? You were telling me about Scarlett, not Ginny."

"Oh, right," Luna said, not even attempting to hide her smile. "Pretty much all I am trying to say is that Scarlett is a fake. That we can agree on, even if you don't want to admit that veilabats are real."

Harry took this new development of information in stride. "It might be true," he said pensively. "But, while I won't look at the pictures, neither will I believe the speculation over them. In fact, I could hardly care one way or the other."

Luna simply smiled and stirred her drink with her wand.

~~~~~

Pansy strategically placed herself next to Zacharias Smith in Herbology. And, as soon as the chance presented itself, she filled him in on the new rumor in much the same way that her fellow female classmates had done throughout the day. By the time she was finished with her explanation, Zacharias's eyes were wide with a furious epiphany.

"No wonder she stood us up at Hogsmeade last Saturday!" he said, quite incensed.

"She stood you up?" Pansy asked, very much interested and trying not to laugh.

"She sure did!" he said. "She invited Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and me to meet her at the Three Broomsticks at noontime, and she didn't even show up! What a nasty woman!"

Pansy raised her eyebrows. "She invited Gregory? Did he go?"

"Sure," Zacharias said, still put out by Scarlett's behavior. "We all did. But he was the one who stayed the longest."

Pansy turned back to their Snapping Frifflepods, her eyes cold. "I see," she said icily, and fell into a pensive silence.

**********

By the last class of the day the male students of Hogwarts had worked themselves into a frenzy over the new rumor. Scarlett just couldn't be a fake! . . . Could she? No, she most certainly couldn't! But what about the different pictures? Wasn't that suspicious in the slightest? Such conversation as this flurried back and forth between the boys all day.

Most nervous of them all was Gregory Goyle. By 3:00 that afternoon he was sweating rivers. He wiped his moist brow, and his hand came away glistening. Surprisingly, he hadn't yet heard the rumor, but he didn't need this rumor to make him nervous. He still hadn't gotten a reply back from Scarlett, although he had been hoping for one all day.

But, as he entered his dormitory to drop off his schoolbag, he found a large barn owl sitting comfortably on his pillow with a letter in its mouth. With a hoarse cry Gregory lunged at the bird, which flapped away in shock, but not before he grabbed the message from its beak. At a considerable amount of tugging on both sides, Gregory managed to get the letter free, and the shell-shocked owl flew away, disoriented from the fight.

The letter was from Scarlett. With trembling hands, Gregory slit open the envelope, pulled out the parchment, and began reading:

Dear Gregory,

It took me a very long time to reply to your letter. I spent over an hour reading and rereading it, wondering how to make up my mind. I just didn't know what to write! However, after a few more hours, I came up with a letter of my own.

You have hurt me, my darling Gregory, more than anyone else ever has. I am still recovering from the emotional injuries you gave me. But I have decided to forgive you. After all, we all make mistakes, and I do believe I can give you one more chance.

However, things cannot go back to the way they were. We will have to start at the very beginning again. For now, we are just friends and no more. You have to prove yourself trustworthy all over again, which will take much longer than before. I hope that you will prove a better man this time around.

With all my love,

Your dearest Scarlett

Tears streamed down Gregory's face, mixing with the sweat of his past anxiety. She had forgiven him! She had actually decided to give him a second chance! And, by Merlin's name, he wouldn't let her down this time! He wouldn't even look at another girl, if that's what it took. He was Scarlett's and Scarlett's alone.

At that moment Blaise burst into the room, out of breath and very excited. "The Scarlett Fan Club is meeting in half-an-hour!" he cried out. "Come on, we gotta get to the Gryffindor common room posthaste!"

"What?" Gregory said, quite startled. "But we normally meet in the evenings!"

"It's an emergency meeting," Blaise explained as he searched around for his copies of The Scarlett Letter. "Colin said to bring all six issues of the newsletter."

"What for?" Gregory asked as he reached into his bag and pulled out his Scarlett magazines.

"What for??" Blaise said incredulously. "Haven't you heard the rumors?"

"What rumors?"

"Never mind," Blaise said. "We'll be talking about it during the fan club meeting anyway." He finally found his magazines, then rushed from the room, leaving behind a very confused Gregory.

~~~~~

In half-an-hour the Gryffindor common room was packed with boys from every year in every house. Gregory barely had room enough on the floor to sit down with his small pile of magazines. Just like every other boy in the room, his attention was fixed on Colin, Seamus, Dean, and Terry. The four leaders of the unofficial fan club stood in the middle of the room, all looking very worried.

"Okay, is there anyone who hasn't heard the rumor yet?" Colin asked timidly. A very few people called out, "Yes!" "You tell them, then, Seamus," Colin said.

"It's like this. . ." Seamus began uneasily, "The girls are all saying that Scarlett is a fake." Gregory's heart briefly constricted at these words until he told himself not to believe it. The girls were simply making it up to be jealous. "At first I thought the girls were simply making it up to be jealous," Seamus said, "but then they backed up their claims with specific examples from the newsletter itself. Namely, from Scarlett's photos."

The next half-hour was pure torture for Gregory Goyle. Seamus, Dean, Terry, and Colin led the investigation in comparing and contrasting every single picture in The Scarlett Letter. For a long, long while the boys went over each inconsistency they found and tried to explain it away.

"She could have used potions to change her body features," Euan Abercrombie piped up. "Maybe she felt like being different in each picture."

"And she could have easily used Glamour Spells for most everything in here," said Stuart Ackerly.

"Yeah, there's no proof that she's not who she says she is," Justin Finch-Fletchley pointed out. "We should just believe she is who she says she is."

But Terry had some bad news for them. He pulled out a fat book from his schoolbag and heaved it onto the table in the middle of the room. "I hate to tell you guys, but none of this is as simple as it sounds. People overestimate Glamour Spells way too much. I read in this book that those Glamour Spells actually do very little to change personal appearance. They can cover blemishes and zits, but, in the end, they can do no more than makeup already does. The Glamour Spells cannot account for the change in Scarlett's nose, or hair texture, or breast size."

The boys were quite taken aback by this bit of news. For a while nobody knew what to say. Gregory felt a constriction in his heart. Scarlett just CAN'T be fake! I can't lose her again, not when I just got her back!

Then Zacharias Smith cleared his throat. "Um, couldn't she use Anatomical Enhancements?" he said. "That would account for the change in her body appearance."

Terry shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid not," he admitted. "See, I looked up on that, too. And I found out that there are no such things as Anatomical Enhancement spells. The closest you can get to such things are anatomically-enhancing potions. But I read up on those, too, and they never make such subtle changes to physical appearances."

This new development was even worse for the boys. They shifted around in their spots and muttered uncomfortably to one another. What would happen to The Scarlett Letter if she was a fraud?

"Um. . ." Gregory finally got the nerve to speak up. "Um, Scarlett's a very smart young woman," he said. "Perhaps she invented some new spells or improved on some old ones. What would she gain by lying to us?"

Draco sniggered behind his hand and muttered, "A bleeding jackpot, perhaps?"

Dean, however, answered more reasonably. "You have a point, Goyle," he allowed, "but the truth is this: we have absolutely no idea as to whether she's a fucking fake or the real deal. With that in mind, I have a proposition." The boys leaned forward and listened eagerly as he continued. "We will write to Scarlett. Every single one of us, right now, and we'll put in all in a large envelope. Then we'll attach an official message from the fan club leaders. In this last letter, we'll request that she prove she is who she says she is."

"We'll ask her to come to Hogwarts in person!" Colin cried out, hit by sudden inspiration. "If she's real, what will she have to lose by coming here? Nothing."

"And what will she have to gain?" Seamus elaborated. "Everything! We'll believe her and the girls will have to believe her! It's perfect all around!"

Draco snorted and mumbled to Gregory, "Yeah, perfect for everyone except the girls."

~~~~~

It took another hour for everyone to write their letters and drop it into a Bottomless Envelope. After that, the meeting ended, and everyone dispersed. Gregory left the Gryffindor common room feeling a bit anxious, but slightly relieved. At first all that information against Scarlett had worried him. He couldn't believe that she'd do something so awful to all of them! And if she was fake, why the heck would she fall in love with him? There were so many other boys in the school that were better-looking than him. Scarlett could have ANY of them!

But, in the end, Gregory felt as good about this matter as could be expected. It might seem like Scarlett was fake, but Scarlett would come to Hogwarts and prove those rumors wrong. She wouldn't let him down again. . . He didn't know what he'd do if she did.

At that moment Gregory realized he really needed to pee. He stopped by a restroom on the fourth floor and was about to push open the door when Pansy suddenly came around the corner.

"Gregory!" she called out. He thought of rushing into the bathroom and out of her sight, but something stopped him. Maybe it was the tone in her voice; she certainly didn't sound ready to seduce him again.

"Greeeegory!" she said, her voice carrying a poisoned sweetness. Her smile was horribly frosty, and her demeanor cold.

"Uh, hello, Pansy," he said slowly. "What is it?"

"Oh, I just wanted to hear about your date with Scarlett on Saturday," Pansy said sweetly.

Gregory slumped against the bathroom door. "Uh, why?" he said, realizing to his horror that a level of pain tinged his voice.

"I just wanted to know," Pansy said, her voice suddenly growing colder, "why you would want to go out with her."

"That's my own business," Gregory said stiffly. "Why would you care?"

Pansy's eyes flashed. "Normally, I wouldn't!" she said. "But when it's the day after you nearly have sex with me, you bet your fucking ass that I'd care!"

Gregory's eyes grew wide. Damn, this whole Pansy thing was coming back to haunt him repeatedly! "But why would you care?" he repeated, realizing how dumb he sounded.

"Because I sure as fuck don't want to go out with a shit that cheats behind my back!" she cried.

"But we aren't going out!" Gregory insisted.

"NOT GOING. . ." she sputtered, "NOT GOING OUT?!?!? WHAT, YOU JUST WANT ME FOR SEX?!?! FUCK YOU, GREGORY!" And she whipped out her wand. "PRIORI BOWELUS!" she shrieked. A sickly yellow light shot from her wand and splashed Gregory in its glow. But nothing happened to him.

Pansy, however, was smiling vindictively. "I'll give you a few days to think," she said. "You've got until Friday evening to decide whether you want to be with a real person or a slutty fraud like Scarlett."

Then she stalked off.

Gregory stood rooted to the spot with shock. He never would have guessed that Pansy would be so mad about him going out with Scarlett. Why did she care, anyway? Not like it mattered to him; he knew he belonged to Scarlett and no one else.

Glad to have straightened this out in his mind, Goyle pushed his way into the bathroom. He reached the urinal on the wall and pulled down his zipper. Then he took aim and pushed everything from his bladder.

Nothing happened.

Until, with a suddenly loud reverberation, all his pee squirted out his butt and drenched his rear. He gave a cry of anguish as poop started forcing its way out his penis before coiling downward to a small pile in the urinal.

With a sinking dread, Gregory realized what Pansy's spell had done. He felt his bottom with both hands, and they came away shining with sticky urine. It had seeped all the way up to the small of his back and was now running down both legs. His robes were drenched and plastered to his body. He turned around and began walking quickly over to one of the normal toilets in hopes that one of them had toilet paper.

It was at this precise moment that Snape walked into the bathroom. Gregory gasped. His zipper was still

down, and a string of poop still swung from his crotch. His hands were drenched, and the back of his robes were soaked. Snape's eyes widened at the eyeful, and he quickly exited the restroom without comment.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Gregory moaned. "Everything bad happens to me! WHY, WHY, WHY???" He sunk to the floor of the bathroom with a wet squelch and began crying.

And the worst thing about it was this: he had never mastered any Cleaning Charms.

**********

On Tuesday evening Scarlett got a Bottomless Envelope that spilled forth over a hundred letters. Among the many:

Dear Scarlett,

The girls say you're a fake. They say your hair and eyes and nose keep changing. I'll bet you have some explanation for it. Come here to Hogwarts and prove all the girls wrong!

Love,

Euan

~~~~~

Dear Scarlett,

We love your newsletter, we really do! But we are all a bit confused as to the inconsistencies in your pictures. Do you really dye your pubic hair? That's remotely possible, but certainly you don't change your nose around and switch your lips when you get tired of them!

Please explain.

Justin

~~~~~

Hey, Scarlett,

Okay, so you've stirred us up for the past two weeks. Now you're stirring us up again because the girls think you're a fake. So get your ass over here and show them that it's not a fraud!

Love,

Cormick McClaggan

~~~~~

And then the official letter:

Dear Scarlett,

We the Unofficial Scarlett Fan Club appreciate all the work and effort you have put into your newsletter. We have never read something as enjoyable or seen something as pleasing to the eye. For that, we praise you.

But we have been confused of late. The girls have noticed some inconsistencies in your newsletter that need some explaining. Your body features keep changing around, and we are quite stumped as to how you do it. The girls want to blow you off as a fake, but we think there's more to it. We want you to prove them wrong by coming here to Hogwarts. Please consider this.

With all due respect,

Colin Creevey

Seamus Finnegan

Terry Boot

Dean Thomas

**********

Wednesday morning brought a horde of clouds that hovered ominously over the castle, threatening to break forth at any moment in a strong storm. The students in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures sprinted across the grounds, praying that the rain overhead didn't fall before lunchtime.

Meanwhile, inside the castle, Parvati had slept well past her alarm. She slowly awoke with a yawn and performed her cursory glance at her alarm clock. "Damn it!" she hissed. It was 8:00. Potions was starting at this very moment!

She jumped out of bed and, after grabbing her school uniform from her bureau, rushed into the bathroom and began brushing her teeth and dressing at the same time. Then she washed her face with one hand and did up her hair with the other. She picked up her bag by the tips of her fingers while whipping on her shoes partway, then stumbled out her room while trying to shove her feet into her high-heels.

Parvati fell twice on the way down to the dungeons, then barely missed the vanishing step. She glanced at her watch. "8:15!" she whispered to herself. "Shit!"

Then, as she reached the top of a flight of stairs, it happened. She passed by a suit of armor and didn't see until it was too late that its sword had slipped down her shirt. With a sudden, loud RRRRRRRRIP, she spun around as her shirt and robes tore all down the front.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!" Parvati moaned as her breasts spilled out of her shirt. "Of all the damn days not to wear a bra. . .! Shut it, you fucker!" she added to the suit of armor, who had started laughing.

She looked down at her shirt and saw that it had torn all the way past the lower hem. In the same vein, all the buttons on her robe had torn away. She now stood in the middle of an open hallway with her clothes ruined and her breasts hanging in full view. And she was late for class! Damn it!!

For a full minute she stood rooted to the spot, wondering what to do. She couldn't very well go back up to the dormitory to change; she was so late already, and she couldn't afford to skip Potions altogether. But she couldn't walk in there with her breasts bared. Sure, the guys would like it, but Snape would take off ten times as many points as if she had simply been very late.

At that moment a pounding of footsteps echoed up the stairs. Panicking, Parvati pulled her robes shut just as Draco Malfoy appeared right in front of her.

He stopped short with a start. "What are you doing here, Parv--er, Patil?" He glanced from her bloodless hands, which clutched her robes to her body, then up to the suit of armor, who was still creaking out a few giggles.

"None of your damn business, Malfoy!" Parvati spat out the last word as if it left a most foul taste on her tongue. She hadn't missed his glances at her clothes and the suit of armor's long sword. "What are you doing? Have you come to gape at me again?"

"What?" Draco said, a bit taken aback.

"Yeah, I thought so!" Parvati said fiercely. "What is it?--don't you get enough from ogling all my other friends?!"

"I do not ogle your friends!" Draco argued hotly.

"Yeah," Parvati said sarcastically. "So why exactly are you still here? Do you need another eyeful to be satisfied, is that it?! Do you want me to rip off my robes so you can see the great tear that that fucking suit of armor made down my shirt? Then you could see my breasts, which is what you've wanted all along!"

"I do NOT ogle your friends!" He insisted angrily.

"Oh, is that so?" Parvati said coldly, her voice shaking. "Then why in Merlin's name do you always keep looking over at the Gryffindor table?"

Draco didn't say a word, but simply shuffled his feet against the wooden floor.

"Wait," Parvati said suddenly, "you say you don't ogle my friends--"

"--I don't even look at them!" Draco interrupted--

"--but what about me?" Parvati continued as if he hadn't spoken. "You never said you didn't ogle me!"

Draco didn't look angry, nor offended. In anything, he looked absolutely miserable. "You're right," he barely more than whispered. In all actuality, he hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"What??" Parvati said, quite surprised at this last concession. "You--you--"

Draco looked up guiltily, as if just realizing what he said. He took a step back from Parvati, who was glaring venomously at him. "I--" he began-- "I'm sorry." He looked directly into her eyes for a moment, and in that moment she saw that he truly was. But what surprised her the most was the sadness that filled those eyes of pale silver. He turned around to walk away.

"Wait," Parvati said. He jerked to a stop, but didn't turn around. She appraised him with a cool glance, then said, "I'm surprised--a Malfoy actually apologized to me."

Draco growled and spun around to face her. "Look, just because I have a shitty father doesn't mean that I'm shitty, too!" he said fiercely, his temper getting the better of him. "You think that I look up to him, but I don't! I'd like nothing more than to disassociate myself from him for the rest of my life! I'm nothing like him, and don't you dare start thinking I am!"

Parvati took a step backwards, and then another one. Draco was never so vocal as this! And he was never this personal and open! What was with him? "Why do you care what I think about you?" she huffed.

He paused, apparently very confused as to what he should say. "I. . . I don't," he said.

Parvati gazed at him searchingly, looking directly into his gray eyes. She hardly noticed that her robes were opening slightly at her neck and revealing the skin beneath. "You do care," she said at last, her voice filled with wonder. "You, of all people, want my approval. Why?"

Draco closed his eyes and turned his head away from her, then gave a shuddering sigh. Then he opened his eyelids and looked back at her. He didn't say a word, but the deep longing in his gray eyes spoke every word.

Parvati took another step away from him, her eyes wide and her mind reeling. "No," she said. "You don't. . ."

Draco didn't say a word, but he didn't deny it.

"You can't!" Parvati said, quite flustered. "You left Pansy for Scarlett. That's why she got mad enough to start The Conspiracy."

"Scarlett?" Draco said, his brow furrowing. "Why in the world would I be in love with her?"

"You have her magazine!" Parvati said. "You look at it all the time!"

"So does every other boy in the school," Draco pointed out. "And I don't look at it 'all the time,' as you say. In fact, I've barely cracked them open in the past week."

"But she invited you out on a date!" Parvati pressed.

"Oh, and I'm supposing that you've been madly in love with every single boy you've dated," Draco said sarcastically.

"I--" Draco had such a good point there that Parvati couldn't deny it. Maybe he wasn't it love with

Scarlett. . . maybe it was Parvati he really--no, he couldn't think of her like that! "But the poem," she said a long last.

"Sorry?" Draco said. "What poem?"

"The one you wrote during the Scarlett fan club," Parvati said. Draco's eyes lit up in remembrance. "Why

did you write that if you weren't in love with her?"

Draco looked directly at Parvati and said, "I didn't write that poem for her. I wrote it for you." He gave Parvati one last, long look before he turned around and began walking away.

"Wait!" Parvati called again. He stopped, though he didn't turn around. "Um. . . what about Potions class?"

"Go on ahead," Draco mumbled. "I'm skiving off."

Parvati watched him go, her hand still clutching loosely at her torn robes. She could hardly fathom what had just happened. It was like it had come from a dream, or maybe a nightmare--or maybe both. But to think that it was real, that Draco Malfoy actually loved her. . .! She would have expected Snape to dispense hugs to all the Gryffindors before that happened!

After trying a few spells, Parvati patched up her shirt halfway, then turned it around and wore it backwards. She managed to reattach and fasten a single button near the top of her robes. After this she left for Potions, still deeply preoccupied by what just happened.

Parvati entered the classroom thirty-seven minutes late, so Snape, in consequence, took 37 points off Gryffindor. She hardly realized, nor hardly cared. She sunk down on a bench next to Lavender and immediately pulled out a sheet of parchment.

Lav, you'll never believe what just happened. . . she wrote.

**********

The storm clouds piled higher as the students piled out of their last class of the day. Most of the fifth years leaving Herbology rushed across the grounds, eager to get in before the rain came down. Ginny, however, took her time as she skipped happily through the grass. She stopped by at a small courtyard and sat at the edge of the fountain that stood in the midst of the shrubs and flowering camellia trees.

The clouds shifted from gray to black. A crack of thunder shuddered in the afternoon air. Ginny laughed happily and splashed a hand through the rippling fountain.

"Shouldn't you be getting in?" said an amused voice from the portico twenty yards away. Ginny turned and saw, to her delight, that Harry was crossing the courtyard and coming nearer to her every moment. Better yet, it began to rain. Better yet, he was wearing a white shirt. Better yet, so was she! God must really love me, she thought happily and the first drops of rain spattered across Harry's chest.

"I always come here," she said happily. "Besides, I like the rain. Don't you ever feel like frolicking in the rain?"

"Frolicking," Harry repeated with a wry smile. "I like the rain well enough, but frolicking is a bit much."

"No, it isn't!" Ginny said gaily. He was now within her reach, so she grabbed him by the hand and pulled him up onto the rim around the fountain. The rain had grown stronger. Ginny's robes were beginning to feel heavy, so she pulled them off and flung them beside her schoolbag. Harry had left his own robes and bag beneath the portico.

"Come on, let's dance around the rim of the fountain," Ginny said happily. And she pulled Harry in a hop-skip along the edge of the water.

"Do you often do this?" Harry asked, very amused.

"Always," Ginny replied. "It's a favorite past-time of mine. At The Burrow we have a great big mud puddle--I can't resist jumping in it every once in a while. Mum scolds me something awful, but it's worth it."

Harry couldn't help but laugh as he imagined the expression on Mrs. Weasley's face. "I'll bet it's worth it," he said, still chortling. At that moment he took a wrong step and slipped. He fell backwards into the fountain and pulled Ginny in along with him. She screamed in shock as their bodies came in sharp contact with the icy water. Harry laughed uproariously and splashed up a series of mini tidal waves. Ginny spluttered and turned about, realizing what had happened. Then she, too, couldn't keep from laughing.

It was times like this when she was truly happy to be alive. Things didn't get much better than being caught in a fountain in the middle of the storm with the man she loved while they both wore white shirts that had become drenched and transparent. It didn't matter that it was January and that the water was ice-cold. Harry could warm her up like no other, and that was enough for her.

Harry eventually understood the idea of frolicking, and they did quite a bit of it as they tried to splash each other in a fierce water fight. Of course, the rain was so thick by now that they could hardly get each other any wetter.

Fifteen minutes later they stumbled from the fountain, both laughing and shivering at the same time. Ginny picked up her sodden robe and school bag, and they ran over to the portico, where Harry took up his dry robe and school bag. Then they headed back to the school.

"Are you cold?" Harry asked as he glanced at Ginny, who was shivering in her drenched outfit. He didn't wait for an answer, but wrapped his robed tightly around her and pulled her a bit closer to him. "Come, we don't want you to catch pneumonia."

Ginny was soaring high on cloud nine. Taking advantage of the chance Harry was giving her, she pulled her body up against his and laid her head on his shoulder, where they walked in silence for some time.

"What are you thinking about?" Harry said at last.

"About a poem I once wrote," Ginny said softly, marveling that even her Gryffindor bravery allowed her to bring this up.

"Oh, a poem! About what?"

"It's a love poem," Ginny said, blushing deeply. "I was just thinking about it."

"Can I hear it?" Harry said eagerly.

"Um. . . I don't have it memorized," Ginny fudged.

"Then just recite what you know. That'll be enough for me."

Ginny thought over the request for a moment, then acquiesced. She, of course, had the whole thing memorized, but she hadn't been about to reveal it that readily. She took a deep breath and began:

"Whenever I am cold you warm me through,

Even though you shiver in the chillest storm.

When everything is false you still stay true;

I know you'll never let me come to harm.

When everyone else leaves, it's you who stay,

When everything is far, you still are near;

Your words my dreads and doubts always allay;

No one like you can wipe away my fear.

Your warm embrace makes bright the darkest night

Because, when I was lost, it's me you found.

When all was wrong, you set it then aright

And gave my heart a melody of sound.

I may have thought I loved, but all the same,

I never found true love until you came."

Ginny had started out very nervously, but by the end her voice grew stronger and more sure. At the last line, she was looking Harry straight in the eyes, willing him to realize what she was saying.

Harry was staring at her, his eyes wide. For a long time he didn't say anything; he just stood there looking very pensive. It was absolute torture for poor Ginny. Then he said softly, "I just realized something."

Ginny's heart skipped a beat or three. "Yes?" she prompted, a bit too eagerly.

"It's. . . that is. . . I'll see you later," Harry slipped out of her embrace. "Make sure you change out of your wet clothes once you reach your dormitory."

And was he gone, leaving Ginny in the doorway of the castle feeling severely disappointed and confused.

**********

A letter arrived that evening at dinner that caused all the boys to gather around the leaders of the Scarlett fan club at the Gryffindor table:

Dear Mesrrs. Creevey, Finnegan, Boot, and Thomas:

On behalf of your Unofficial Scarlett Fan Club, I will gladly come to Hogwarts. I will arrive on Friday between 10:00 A.M. and 2:00 P.M. I will even make an appearance in the Great Hall so that all the girls may see me in person. I expect you all to be there to greet me.

With love to my greatest fans,

Scarlett

**********

Later that night Hermione and Ginny were patrolling the corridor outside the Gryffindor common room. The Scarlett fan club had saw fit to meet once again, and the two girls didn't want to be in the midst of it. Besides, they were waiting to waylay a certain person once the meeting ended.

In the meantime Ginny made good use of the time by pouring out all her troubles for Hermione's sympathetic ear. ". . .I was so sure I had him!" she bemoaned, having just explained the entire incident in the fountain. "I was preparing myself for a wild snogging--perhaps even some groping--when he up and left!"

"Oh dear," Hermione said softly. "I'm sorry."

Ginny pulled at her hair, which had grown quite frizzy over the last half-hour. "He had the perfect chance!" she moaned. "I was right there! What kind of guy doesn't take a hint like that!"

"I dunno, Ron might not have," Hermione inserted.

"But it wasn't even a hint!" Ginny said. "I practically spelled it out for him!"

"Hmm, that's what you have to do sometimes," Hermione said condoling. "Guys aren't always the sharpest tools in the shed."

"But Harry's supposed to be!" Ginny insisted. "He knows more than he lets on, you know."

Hermione put her hand to her chin in pensive thought. "True, he normally does," she said, "but there're other times when he awfully thick."

"But this is beyond thick!!" Ginny declared. "He had the perfect chance!"

"You already said that," Hermione pointed out.

"But he did!" Ginny said empathetically. She pulled at her hair again, then slumped down to the ground, all worn out.

Hermione watched Ginny with pity, knowing what the girl was going through. Ron had taken ages to come around, too. But, with a great deal of patience and a little forwardness, Hermione had secured him at last.

"Do you think he doesn't like me?" Ginny asked glumly. "Maybe I've been imagining it all along."

Hermione smiled sadly and took a seat beside her red-haired friend. Then she put her arm around Ginny and squeezed her comfortingly. "Maybe Harry does know more than he's letting on," Hermione suggested. "He just isn't telling you for reasons of his own. Maybe he has an elaborate plan that will end up with you two getting together after all."

Ginny poked her foot at the wood floor beneath him. "Maybe," she said irritably, "but unlikely. Whatever he's playing at, I wish he'd hurry up! I've been waiting six years now, and it's been very tiring."

At that moment the dormitory opened, and Draco Malfoy stepped from the portrait hole into the hallway. Presumably he had left the meeting early, seeing as he was all alone. He strode silently towards the stairs, giving off a particular air of depression.

Suddenly forgetting their previous conversation, Ginny and Hermione leapt forward and followed him at a quiet tiptoe. They each flitted down the many flights of stairs and into the Entrance Hall, their forms casting shadows in the shimmering moonlight that streamed through the windows. Draco didn't turn around the entire time, but continued as if nobody was following him.

As they reached a flight of stairs leading to the dungeons, Draco suddenly spun around, his face suddenly inches from Hermione's and Ginny's. "Bloody Merlin, what the hell are you two doing??" he exploded. "Is there any reason that you've been following me for the past ten minutes?"

Ginny gave Hermione a sidelong glance, which Hermione correctly interpreted as a sign that she would need to do the talking. "We wanted to talk to you."

Draco scoffed in disbelief. "Talk to me?" he said incredulously. "Talk to me?!? What makes you think I have time to waste with a Mudblood and a dirt-poor weasel?"

Hermione suddenly looked a bit taken aback at this attack, but Ginny stepped forward and hid a smile. "We need your help," she said calmly.

Draco let out a shout of laughter. "Ha! You need my help?! And do you really expect to get it?" He wiped a tear of mirth from his cold gray eye. "My, my, Granger, you're dumber than even I thought!"

Hermione looked quite offended and not a little hurt by this comment. She looked ready to shrink back into the shadows, but Ginny took a step forward for each step her bushy-haired friend took backward. "Malfoy, we aren't asking you a favor," the red-haired Gryffindor said. "We are asking for a trade. We need your help, and you most certainly need ours."

Draco let out another bark of laughter; this one, however, sounded much weaker than before. "If you think I need you help, then you're thicker than a concussed troll," he said shortly. "Even if I needed help, you would be the last person on earth that I'd go to."

Ginny shook her head slowly, this time unable to conceal her grin. "Oh, I think you're very wrong there. See, we know all about Parvati."

Draco froze in the torchlight and stared at them, his eyes wide and vulnerable. "What about Parvati?" he said, a bit too quickly.

Ginny laughed and took a step closer to the blond Slytherin. Even Hermione moved hesitantly from the shadows. "Really, Draco," she said, her voice lilting with laughter, "if you tell one girl, you tell them all. Only a magical oath could get in the way of that. You're madly in love with Parvati, and there's really nothing you can do about it."

"Ha!" Draco said. "I can get any girl I want! I don't need your help for a trivial detail like that."

"Yes, you do," Ginny continued, her confidence growing with each small victory over Malfoy. "Parvati is inclined to hate you, see. She doesn't much like the Slytherins, and she likes you the least. She tends to go after the fun-loving guys, and also the guys that don't keep ogling her and her friends."

"Hey!" Draco protested, "I don't ogle her friends! I thought I told her that."

"Okay, so maybe you didn't," Ginny amended, "but that doesn't make her any more inclined to like you. As a typical girl, she's actually looking for a boy that acts like a gentleman. You, most unfortunately, are a gentleman that acts like a boy."

"Don't go mistaking me for my father again!" Draco said crossly. "I can act like a perfect gentleman if I want to. And I refuse to accept your help in securing Parvati! I'll get her to go out with me if it takes me another ten years!"

"By then she'll have married and had a few kids," Hermione pointed out helpfully. "I think you'd better figure out a backup plan."

"Yeah, one that doesn't involve you," Malfoy ground out. "And I don't remember asking a Mudblood like you to join this conversation."

"Hey, you'd better act more polite if you want our help!" Ginny retorted, advancing on Malfoy.

Draco whirled around, his black cloak whipping in the scarlet torchlight. "No chance in hell!" he said empathetically. "I don't want your help, and that's final!"

He strode towards the staircase, his footsteps echoing angrily in the dark. Hermione looked a bit panicked that their plan wasn't working, but Ginny remained calm and collected. She moved forward just as Malfoy's foot rested on the first step, and spoke. "Parvati's not the only thing you need help with."

Draco paused for a moment and turned around. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said shortly.

"Then we'll tell you," Ginny said simply. "And remember this: by helping us, you'll be doing the very thing you've longed after for ages."

~~~~~

"I found that venture quite successful, don't you think?" Ginny said brightly two hours later as she and Hermione entered the sixth-year girls' dormitory.

"Yes, I suppose so," Hermione said fairly, "just so long as Malfoy keeps his word. We need to get everything together tomorrow evening. I do hope he sends his part in on time."

"Believe me, he will," Ginny said surely, dropping her voice as they stepped into the midst of the dormitory's gentle snores. "He's getting the chance to do what he's always wanted--there's no way he's going to mess it up. And, as an added bonus, we'll also put in a good word about him with Parvati. With any luck, they'll be a couple by the time spring rolls around."

"If Malfoy delivers," Hermione reminded her.

"He will," Ginny said, smiling serenely. "He may have agreed reluctantly and with all kinds of bad grace, but he was more eager than a dragon in the kiddie pool. You could see it in his eyes." She crossed over to Hermione's bed, humming happily to herself.

When she saw the letter on the pillow her smile disappeared in a flash. She grabbed it up and began reading, her face paling with each sentence. Her hand shook as she reached the last line.

"What is it?" Hermione asked eagerly.

"It's. . ." Ginny said, a tear appearing in the corner of her eye. "It's. . . I never believed he'd actually do it!" The tear quickly slid down her cheek and plopped gently on the letter's signature. Hermione grabbed the message with a frown and began reading:

Dear Scarlett,

I know I told you to stop writing to me, but I have had a change of mind. I think I actually would like to get to know you. Except I only want to know part of you, if you know what I mean. Meet me in the courtyard by the portico off the bridge at 7:00 P.M. on Friday the 31^st of January. I know the teachers don't much like you, but you'll make it in here. I'm giving you over a week to figure out how. Just set your mind to it, and it'll be no problem.

Love,

Harry Potter

Hermione stared at the letter, her brown eyes bugging out to twice their normal size. "Please tell me he didn't. . ." she whispered, staring at her red-haired friend, who was now sniffling softly in the dim dormitory.

"I--I just can't believe it," Ginny moaned softly. She wiped away a wave of tears, only to be overtaken by another. Her eyes were rapidly reddening. "I really thought he loved me! I was so sure today when we--when we were in the fountain in the rain--and then when I read him my poem. . .!" She began sobbing.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," Hermione said gently. She wrapped her arm around Ginny and allowed the red-head to cry into her shoulder. Ginny couldn't seem to stop her tears; after so much anxiety and disappointment, she could no longer uphold the dam of sorrow that brimmed inside of her. She let misery burst forth, and for the next half-hour all Hermione could to was to hold her friend close, all the meantime whispering, "I'm so, so very sorry. . ."

**********

Thursday morning arrived with a letter to Narcissa Malfoy:

Dear Mother,

I just wanted to tell you that our troubles will soon be over. We will both soon get what we wanted all along. What that is, I cannot say, in case this letter gets misdirected. But I do want to ask you to send one of your elves over to Hogwarts today. I need it to take me on some VERY, VERY important errands that absolutely cannot wait another day. Send the elf over around 3:00; it can meet me in my dormitory.

Love,

Your giddy son

**********

Thursday was, primarily, a day of suspense. Nothing much happened, but much was discussed among the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The boys couldn't think of anything but Scarlett's appearance at Hogwarts the following day, and they spent all class arguing over what exactly she'd look like. Many people thought she'd be the exact same as she was in her magazine; others thought she would end up looking totally different. Many of the girls openly wished her to be horrifically disfigured, or at least unbearably ugly.

The boys were also preparing the school for Scarlett's arrival. They cleaned up their common rooms (and even their dormitories) in the event that Scarlett might visit their living quarters. A few of the boys even joined the girls during their detention and helped in the cleansing of Hogwarts. One thing was the forefront in their minds: the school had to be absolutely perfect for Scarlett's arrival!

By late afternoon Ginny found herself sick of the whole mess. It had been uproariously funny at first, watching Scarlett intoxicate the boys and infuriate the girls. The raging drama around the school had afforded hours of endless amusement for her and Hermione. But now it was just a sick farce. The joke was on her just as much as it was on everyone else. What did it matter that Ron had passed the Scarlett test when Harry had failed? How could her Harry--her perfect, gentlemanly, smart, fun-loving Harry--do this to her? She had as good as said she loved him! And what had he done? He had gone behind her back and started writing suggestive missives to Scarlett, that's what!

I was fooling myself, Ginny realized with a pang of misery. He never loved me, not for a moment. Why else would he have left me yesterday when he had the perfect chance to return my sentiments? We would be hand-in-hand at this very moment if he really loved me.

She entered her dormitory feeling very depressed. Her fellow fifth-year girls had just returned from their detention, smelly and sweaty and still complaining about Scarlett. I swear, if I hear another word about that whore, I'm going to rip someone's head off! Ginny thought bitterly.

She sank down on her bed and picked up Harry's school robes, which she still hadn't returned from the other day. She held them close to her, sniffing in Harry's scent of polished wood and fresh air. How she wished he could be there in her arms right now, and how she knew that it could never be. . .!

Elizabeth was the first girl to return from the shower. She entered the room with her towel wrapped around her body and went over to her dresser. She pulled out an outfit that was entirely too small for such a cold winter day. Then she lifted a barrette from her drawer. It slipped through her fingers and skittered under Ginny's bed. "Darn it," she whispered, and dropped to her knees to retrieve the errant barrette. She dived between Ginny's legs and reached under the bed. Her hand hit a stack of magazines underneath, and they all came spilling out at her feet.

"Oh shit," she muttered. "Sorry, Ginny, I--" she stopped short and gasped as she stared at the flood of magazines before her. They were all pornography.

Unfortunately, Ginny's other three roommates decided to wander over to see what the commotion was. One of them, Alyssa, took one look at the myriad of scantily-clad women and blurted out, "Whoa, do you read all of these??"

Ginny was spluttering as her mind worked at double speed, wondering what to say. Elizabeth jumped in before she could say a word and breathed, "So you're a lesbian, Ginny!"

The other three girls gasped and exchanged looks, as if each was dying to say something, but didn't quite know what to say first. Alyssa, however, pointed out, "No, she can't be. She's in love with Harry."

"Oh," Elizabeth said, suddenly understanding. "So you're bi, Ginny!" The girls nodded to each other, realizing this must be the answer.

"N--no, I'm not," Ginny finally managed. "This isn't mine."

Alyssa let out an incredulous laugh. "You mean to say that someone hid a million porn magazines under your bed, and you had no idea they were there?"

"No," Ginny said. "It, um, belongs to my twin brothers. See, my mum destroyed their last porn collection, so they asked me to keep this one safe."

The girls exchanged a few doubtful looks before Elizabeth turned back to Ginny and said patiently, "Fred and George don't need you to hide their porn collection. They have their own apartment above their shop; they could store it there."

Ginny chuckled weakly. "Believe me, that wouldn't stop my mum. What else do you think happened to their last collection?"

"Oh," Elizabeth said. She and the other girls seemed almost disappointed that Ginny wasn't hiding in the closet, as if they had been really looking forward to the week's worth of gossip that would have followed afterward. Ginny sighed and, with a wave of her wand, sent the river of naughty magazine back under her bed. Elizabeth found her barrette, and the other girls separated throughout the dormitory.

Ginny turned back to Harry's pair of robes and sniffed back a tear. Merlin, she couldn't wait until this Scarlett mess was over! It had caused too many mix-ups, too much confusion. Maybe everything wrong would right itself once the boys had forgotten about Scarlett.

But there's some things that will never be right again, Ginny thought sadly as a tear trickled down her face. She balled up Harry's robes and threw them at the foot of her bed, where they slipped halfway under the mattress, gone from Ginny's sight but not quite forgotten.

A/N: Hm, I seem to have forgotten to put on the R-rated warnings at the beginning of each chapter. Not that it matters, anyway. Just about every chapter has R-rated material in it, so it's really no use repeating myself unnecessarily. I hope nobody's been offended, and if they have, then I hope they recover. . . Er, I mean that I'm deeply penitent. . .

(but not enough to actually change my story.)

Yeah, so anyway. . .

Next chapter's the biggie. Lots of stuff is revealed, and it's really the climax of the story. But don't go running away with the idea that you'll know everything by the end of next chapter--because you won't. Chapter 9 is just as pivotal as Chapter 8, even if it's much shorter. Please stick around (I plan to update after the Christmas holidays), and REMEMBER TO REVIEW! :D If you're an author, you should already know how important it is to leave feedback, even if it's constructively negative.

Islander