Pretense

"Hey, guys. I got no inspiration for you. Just get it over with," The coach waved his hand in nonchalance revealing the hip flask he was carrying that would no doubt be holding something a tad stronger than butterbeer and staggered off into the stands, shouting "And don't get killed- it'll cost us."

'Well, that was motivating,' Ron thought to himself. He had just been psyching himself up, telling himself it would be fine. They would be fine. All he had to do was score as much as possible. It would be different this time. They would win.

Coach Jackson had just totally obliterated that ideology. He wouldn't be fine. He wouldn't score. It wouldn't be any different this time. They would lose. Again.

Ron strapped on his knee pads and sighed. Just like normal. He always lost. It was just the way life went for him. He lost in love, life and, no doubt, he'd get a raw deal in the after life too. He had no money, no girlfriend, no respect, and not many friends anymore. All he had was Quidditch and as of the last few years, he was losing in that too.

The team was going down without a fight and there was no way to stop it. Chudley Cannons was the worst team in the world ( not technically, Wimbledon Wombles were at the bottom of the table but no one talked about them). Ron had had many chances to sign to another team but he was adamant- he was loyal and would never abandon his team. He had been sure that even if they were going down he would make sure they went down in a blaze of glory. He was a damn fool. Everyone had given up their hopes and dreams and before he knew it Ron's very own Chudley Cannons were dying, a slow and agonising death, without so much as a whimper.

'But none of it is my fault', Ron thought to himself in consolation, 'I did nothing wrong!'

He had always gone full pelt, high speed at anything he put his mind to, which some would say (namely Hermione) was his downfall. Ron had always viewed it as a strength but only recently had he realised the truth.

He hadn't thought through properly the so-called once-in-a-lifetime opportunity of a career in Quidditch- it was his dream, that was all that mattered.

He had become a symbol of ridicule and, more prominently, been forgotten. He was nobody. He hadn't thought of that. Percy had offered him a job at his company where he could've worked his way up and become someone of importance by now- but no, he was a poor, miserable nobody.

He would never have guessed Quidditch of all things would make him this unhappy.

Ron leaned back against his locker, trying to find a moment of peace before he had to go out there into the storm of disgruntled anti- fans.

...But he couldn't stop the cogs in his brain from turning. All he could think was 'At least I've got my family and my health'.

Ron's stomach did a Wronski Feint when he thought about his family. He knew that that might not be so anymore. The Infamous Weasleys were disbanding. Bill was still in Egypt at Gringotts, and Charlie had progressed on to Bulgaria with his dragons. Percy, now spent most of his time at work in London or with his wife Penelope and only on special occasions (i.e. He got a promotion and wanted to brag) would he return home. The twins had set up their own chain of joke shops, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, that had become the most renowned and praised, not to mention feared, franchise on the face of the planet. This meant that they were always travelling here and there, testing formulas, experimenting with strange new ingredients, and every once in a while promoting a new 'product', as they called their nightmare inducing pranks.

In fact, the only two Weasley siblings currently in the same location ( with the exception of Fred and George) were Ron and Ginny.

'Well, at least I've got my health.'

It made Ron's heart ache when he thought of his baby sister. They'd always shared a special connection, being the two youngest and now that she wasn't speaking to him he felt terrible. He had, in passing, made a comment about her relationship with Harry which she hadn't taken too kindly to so she shouted at him for a bit, cursed him for a while, then declared she'd had enough and walked out.

She didn't understand. She had never understood. Perhaps it was better that way. He was trying to protect her and she would say she didn't need protecting, but he knew better. She was his sister- it was his job to discourage male suitors.

Ron knew he had gone too far by calling Harry a 'sycophantic male trollop'. Perhaps he should have used an insult that he understood.

The trouble was that he couldn't see the line he wasn't supposed to cross because he knew Harry. It clouded his judgement.

What was he supposed to do? Sit there and watch him trample all over her heart? No, he couldn't, wouldn't let it happen. He knew what trouble Harry was and that, good guy or not, he was bound to leave her broken and miserable.

The only problem was that he didn't want t insult and ignore Harry. However he might act Ron still loved Harry like a brother. They'd been through Hell and back together, nothing would change that. Harry might not know it, but if he was ever in trouble, Ron would be there- he would always be there for him, no matter what.

But, a man has to do what a man has to do.

So Ron insulted and sneered at Harry any chance he got. He knew that this must have hurt his former best friend but it was for his own good. He also knew that his 'hatred' of Harry was part of the reason why he didn't have many friends anymore, but no one, not even Hermione, realised the truth.

This wasn't a display of how much he detested Harry. No, it just showed how much he loved his sister.

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It was going alright, she supposed. He hadn't burped, farted or made any lewd remarks. He hadn't mentioned any obsession with his mother, a growing fetish for Star Trek memorabilia or a love of ritual animal slaughters of any kind. God, she'd had her share of boyfriends who had. Usually, her taste in men was abysmal.

However, it seemed as though she'd struck gold.

Brian Murphy was good- looking. He had short, close- cropped , rusty blond hair, an Adonis tan and, as far as she could tell, a body to die for underneath that smart shirt and tie.

Brian Murphy was smart. He had been at the top of his class in everything (except needlework, but he claimed that didn't really count) and he was close to becoming partner at the law firm he currently worked at 'Gear, Sear and Hard- Shoes'.

Brian Murphy obviously had common sense. He had been the one to suggest eating at Civetta because it was closer to her flat and easier for her to walk to, with her newly acquired sprained ankle, courtesy of a broken heel. Either that or he thought he was in with a chance getting some tonight.

Brian Murphy was funny. He could charm the knickers off of a nun, as Harry would say. With nothing but a smile and suggestive joke he had secured them the best seats in the house, to Ginny's astonishment.

Brian Murphy was, most important of all, nice. He had humoured her failed attempts at joking, opened doors for her, and helped an old lady cross the road, like a regular boy scout.

However, Ginny couldn't help but nit- pick. Brian Murphy was just too perfect. She couldn't help but list the ways he annoyed her, as she watched him chat animatedly.

He was handsome, but she thought she could detect dark roots and she never had liked a man who was ashamed of what he was and had to resort to changing himself. His eyes, she couldn't help feel, were too cold. When those icy cobalts looked directly at her it made her shiver with fear. He was a predator and she was his prey...

He was smart. But being smart was a totally different thing, in Ginny's opinion, to being intelligent. He was agile, brisk, shrewd and downright saucy sometimes. To be truly intelligent was more than that, as Hermione proved on a daily basis. To be intelligent is to 'have an inborn quickness of understanding and adaptability to relatively new situations', according to the Oxford English Dictionary, and Ginny took their word for it.

He was funny, but he tended to laugh at people rather than with them. Yes, she knew that most men were this way, but she couldn't help thinking of Harry and Ron, who she always inevitably compared her date to.

Harry wasn't as traditionally handsome as Brian, due to his uncontrollable dark hair and large unusually green eyes but there wasn't any doubt who was the most pleasant looking. Harry just had an aura about him that comforted people and made them trust him, as well as a crooked grin that exuded warmth and cheered up anyone that was lucky enough to encounter it.

Ron wasn't as smart or as sharp as Brian, perhaps because he tended to bury his head in the sand when difficult situations arose, instead of facing them head on, like he should.

Ron liked to pretend he was completely dense by misplacing his wand frequently, getting the most basic charms wrong and claiming he couldn't understand the majority of what came out of Hermione's mouth.

Ginny knew better. She knew for a fact that he wasn't the ditz he acted like. After what had happened with Voldemort in his seventh year where every of- age witch and wizard was called forward to be a hero and fight, Ron had decided that he preferred being the loveable sidekick, over being a powerful wizard in his own right.

Obviously, both Harry and Ron could beat Brian any day of the week in humour and kindness. The Weasley household had been something of a Mecca for all those who had ever enjoyed a good laugh, and since Harry had, more or less, grown up with them it had rubbed off on him.

"...So what do you think?"

Ginny was startled from her reverie and looked up guiltily. "Er...sorry?"

Brian smiled at her condescendingly as if talking to the village idiot. "I asked what you thought, but you were obviously somewhere else..."

She reddened instantly. "I-"

"Oh, no need to apologise!" He waved a patronising hand at her, making her eyes narrow into a glare.

She silently fumed as he continued. "I know I can be frightfully dull when I go on about my job. Don't worry, I'll shut up now." There was a silence as he watched her expectantly. "You know, I'm getting sick of the sound of my own voice, so why don't you tell me more about you?" Brian smirked encouragingly but she couldn't stop herself from thinking that it was just pointless. He was so out of her league! And he knew it too. That was why he got to act grown up and she was left with the role of the immature child.

'Oh, well' Ginny thought. 'I'll just have to go and prove him wrong, won't I?'

"What's so funny?"

Time to flick the flirt switch. She flashed him her Most Dazzling Smile

For forty-five minutes Ginny talked passionately about her life, spicing up the boring bits (which, truthfully, made everything she told him fictitious), flirted outrageously and made sure to ooze wit, charm and elegance.

As she threw back her head in laughter at one of his 'jokes', she was sure she'd seen his eyes linger on the way her hair shone a hundred different shades in the candle light.

Just as planned. She could tell that before long he'd be kicking himself for ever doubting she was anything but a ravishing beauty with a positively sparkling personality.

By dessert she knew she had him bewitched. He was watching her closely with a strange look on his face, as she took her time devouring the deluxe chocolate cake that lay before her. She made sure to lick the fork clean slowly, just to drive him wilder, and make it just that little bit more disappointing when she told him where to shove it. Jesus, how she adored the game. The chase. Especially if she didn't really like him. After all everyone needs a challenge once in a while.

After paying the bill ( he rather hurriedly insisted, ignoring Ginny's protests) they stepped out into the dark, where the sweet zephyr made the trees waltz in time gently to the rhythm of the night.

It was perfect. Ginny blushed (on cue- she found it to be a rather affective tool), looked away coyly and waited for it to happen. Something did happen but it was not what she expected.

Brian Murphy edged away from her nervously, with a 'Had a great night, Ginny! I trust you can find your own way home? I'll call you!" and disapparated.

Ginny stood, rooted to the spot, blinking. What had just happened? He had rejected her? It was supposed to be the other way around! She had been convinced she'd had him. Obviously, her radar wasn't as fine-tuned as she'd thought.

In fact, now that she thought about it, she could see how what she'd gleefully mistaken for passion had actually been fear. Those looks of want had really been a desire to leave as soon as possible, and his watching her eat hadn't been evidence of his longing but his silently urging her to finish quickly.

'Well, he's not the first, and certainly won't be the last bloke I scare off'. With that resigned introspection Ginny did what she did after every bad date ( and every good one come to think of it). She stuck out her wand.

After what must've only been five seconds, a blazing purple slash of colour streaked into her line of vision with a BOOM!

The doors glided open with a swish to reveal a pair of dancing green eyes and a Cheshire cat grin.

"So...Didn't manage to ensnare the poor bloke with your womanly hooks, eh?"

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