Anyone But Me

Chapter Seventy-Seven

"...and he keeps getting close. Like really close, but then he ends up pulling away. Do you think there is something wrong with them?" Ginny stopped their advancement a few feet from the door to the classroom they were headed towards.

"Do I think there is something wrong with your breasts because your boyfriend is afraid to cop a feel?" The absurdity of the question had her scoffing in disbelief.

"I mean... He has faced a dragon for Ceres' sake! Why would he be spooked by a boob?" Her friend tried to rationalize with the nonsensical way teenage boys' minds worked.

Hermione grabbed the witch's arms and gave her a quick shake. "Listen to me... He was terrified before doing that, too. If it is bothering you that badly, do it for him."

"I can't just... Do it for him." Ginny shook her head at the thought. "Harry is... Special."

"Special or not, he is still Harry, and you are going to have to bludgeon him over the head with your express permission." She tried to sound consoling instead of exasperated and slightly nauseous. "Once you do, I'm sure he'll... turn into a raging groping beast."

"You really think so?" There was an uncommon uncertainty that curled the girl's shoulders.

"Ginny... I know so." Hermione hated to see how badly this silly predicament had flogged her friend's self-confidence. "Your bosom is lovely, I promise. Don't get in your head because you decided to date someone with the romantic history of a monk, okay?"

"Ugh! You are right!" It sounded more like an accusation, but the redhead straightened her posture and gave a small smile of reassurance.

"I routinely am..." She smirked back and took a step away. "Are you ready to go and get so drunk that we forget about idiot boys and their issues for a night?"

"Alright, Miss Smarty-Pants. Bring on the fun." Ginny said, gesturing for her to go ahead.

After a quick roll of her eyes, Hermione made her way over to the door. The loud revelry was muffled by the thick wood but guaranteed the distraction that she needed. Yet her hand hovered near the handle as her own doubts started to race.

"Mystery Guy in there?"

"No clue..."

"And he is one of the idiots we are forgetting?"

"Yup."

"This might actually be fun then; let's go!"

With the tiny nudge of encouragement, she flung open the blockade and stepped into the remodeled room. Completely different than the first time she had entered. It was darker, the floating candles replaced with orbs of strobing colored lights. Most of which pulsed to the slow beat of the Celestina Warbeck ballad being slaughtered by the tiny witch singing.

All of the makeshift seating areas were swapped for cushioned benches that lined the majority of the walls. One was left to feature the long ornate table that held the bottles of liquor and other goodies for attendees to sample. As was promised, featured prominently in the middle of the large room sat an old record player. A modified version of the spell Dumbledore used to instruct the impromptu performance in fourth year caused the song's lyrics to appear above the head of the current inebriated serenader. Golden cursive letterings faded and transformed as the piece went on.

The entire effect was some weird jumble of derelict gothic mansion mixed with a stereotypical muggle dance club. Garish and audacious, somehow- it blended together and worked. Unconcerned with the crowd of people around the crooning singer who was finishing up her set or the few groups who had settled themselves along the perimeter to converse, the pair made their way over to the table of sustenance.