Disclaimer: Yes...well, you all know the drill. I don't own anything but the rather outrageous plot.
A/N: I'm very very tempted to burst into hysterical laughter right now because nothing I say or do can excuse my terrible laziness and lack of updating.
I bow my head to you in apology. I certainly deserve a solid reprimand.
But...irregardless, here is a brand new chapter, offered to you as my way of saying "yes I know I am a lazy ***"
Ronald Weasley was having a very bad day.
Well…he was having a very bad panic attack actually. After the disgusting concoction Luna had smeared on his face had flaked off, he was still left with not only the damned stench but also an unsightly purple blotch upon his chin.
But oh no, that really wasn't the half of it. Ron moaned into his hands as he peeked between his fingers. Yes. Damn it, that purple splotch had returned to its original size. Breathing deeply and praying he had imagined its odd enlargement when he had practiced his press release speech in the mirror, Ron straightened again and stared resolutely into the mirror.
"Triska! Have you found out what it is yet?!" He screamed, frantic to be rid of splotch before his press conference.
"La malediction de mal foi..." Came Triska's advancing voice before she gracefully appeared at the bathroom doorway, perfectly dressed in a pink silk number edged with a few pieces of intricately woven lace.
"Other wise known as 'the curse of bad intent'; invented in 1835 by Xion Malfoy…ah…mal foi…how ironic." Her crystal blue eyes scanned the text, murmuring indistinctly as she went. "Ah…administered by a potion applied to the face…blah blah blah…it leaves a mark upon its victim which inhibits the ability to lie. Hmm…how interesting…I wonder how it does that."
"I don't know!" Ron threw up his hands before clasping his face frantically. As he looked into the mirror, he eyed the purple mark suspiciously and groaned. For a moment it remained unchanged but then, like an overruling infection, it became a mottled uneven maroon before spreading rapidly across his face until it covered the entirety of his pale Weasley features.
"Oh dear." Triska cleared her throat uncomfortably before a spark entered her eyes. "So you can't lie…not at all?"
Ron glared at her as he watched his mottled skin fade from the unsightly red to a paler, tender sort of pink.
Triska smiled innocently.
"Do you love me?"
Ron huffed distractedly, his hands smoothing over his skin again and again.
"Of course I do." The pink began to darken to a violent shade of red once more.
Realising his mistake immediately, Ron turned to apologise, his eyes pleading, expecting the inevitable slap that would be aimed his way. Instead, her face was void of emotion, the book of curses still clasped lightly in her hands as she eyed the purplish hue of his usually freckled countenance.
"It's alright Ron. I understand."
"You…you do?" Ron stuttered as he watched Triska turn calmly in her kitten heels and close the book firmly. "Umm…thanks. I…"
"No need for that, Ronald." A weak smile curved her lips as she looked at him from over her shoulder. Shaking herself, Triska Benedict smiled benignly and raised a hand to stroke his face gently. "Come Ron, we must not be late for the press conference."
"Wait!" Ron gestured frantically toward his face. "What about…"
Triska shrugged coquettishly, her mouth pressed into a firm mockery of a smile.
