|SIYE Time:3:29 on 18th October 2017|
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Category: Alternate Universe
Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom
Story is Complete
Summary: Ginny is persuaded to be on a Bachelor-type reality show against her better judgement. Who is the hunk all the women are fighting over? We know him. We love him. But in my story, Ginny's never met him. NOTE: If you think you'll hate this story, read it anyway! I hate reality shows too, you know! lol Trust me, you'll love it...I proclaim in as non-arrogant a way as possible... *sweat drop*
Hitcount: Story Total: 94325; Chapter Total: 4631
Dreams and Living Nightmares
Ginny sat at the breakfast table reading through one of her new novels, a bowl of cereal quickly growing soggy in the forgotten bowl in front of her. She didn’t notice someone enter the room from behind her. She didn’t notice until the person placed his hands over her eyes.
“Guess who!” a male voice asked from behind her.
Smiling as she set her book down, she turned. “Neville! What are you doing here so early. I thought you were working today.”
“I took the day off so that I could come and see you. I feel like we haven’t spent any time together in ages.”
Ginny stood quickly and wrapped her arms around Neville’s neck and was forced to stand on her tiptoes to do so, which she didn’t mind in the slightest. He tucked his hands around her waist and kissed her hair lightly. “So, what have you been doing today?” he asked as he let her down.
She picked up the book and waved it in his face. “Reading. I’m bored without our research.” She sighed and set the book down gesturing to a chair as she sat back down. “What have you been doing?”
Ginny didn’t hear the answer. Something about this seemed very wrong. It felt right somehow, but at the same time, it was very wrong.
Neville reached over and grabbed her hand, idly stroking her thumb with his finger. Neville. Why would Neville being there seem wrong?
While Neville was still talking, Ginny glanced up at the window and suddenly knocked over her chair in her haste to stand up.
“Ginny, what’s wrong?”
Ginny couldn’t find her voice in order to answer him. Outside the kitchen window, smiling in at her, was none other than Harry Potter. Why is the Boy Who Lived at my house?
Suddenly having a very strong instinct — one which probably was inherited from her mother — Ginny felt as though she needed to clean the kitchen for such a famous figure-head, but when she reached down to take her bowl to the sink, she saw that it was no longer sitting there.
Ginny looked back at Neville, intending to ask if he knew what had happened to her cereal bowl, but when she saw him he was jovially conversing with Harry.
Something is seriously wrong here. But what…?
“Ginevra,” Harry spoke from beside Neville. “Your fiancé was just telling me all about your synthesis experiments. It sounds fascinating, but I’m really not catching the bulk of it. Would you mind translating?”
Our research. It was over. I’m no longer engaged to Neville Longbottom. That’s what seems wrong. Then why was this happening?
“Is something wrong, Ginny?” Neville asked, concern painted on his face.
“You should sit down, Ginevra, you look as though you’re going to pass out.”
No! This is wrong! Why are they both here? Why am I here? Why is this happening?
Neville, his concern turning very serious, walked over to Ginny and wrapped his arms around her. “Please, tell me what’s wrong.”
“NO!!” she screamed, pulling away from him. She had to quell the emotion she had to run, instead, into Harry’s arms.
“Ginny.” Neville’s voice was full of pain.
“Ginevra.” The look Harry was giving her made her want to run to him all the more.
“Ginny!” With each passing second Neville seemed to be drifting further away from her. She turned to run, but found her way blocked by a bunch of men carrying cameras.
“Ginevra.” A new voice. “Ginevra, wake up.”
Ginny felt someone shaking her shoulders and forced herself to open her eyes, which her mind tried to convince her were already open.
“Ginevra, are you alright? I heard you yell a couple of minutes ago. I think you were having a bad dream.” Trista sat next to her on the bed in a long nightgown, concern the prominent emotion on her face.
Reality suddenly hit Ginny and she found herself sobbing softly into Trista’s shoulder. She didn’t really know why. She didn’t know if the tears were for the confusion caused by the dream…or because in the dream, she and Neville had still been in love. Then, of course, there was that bit with Harry showing up and the look on his face right before she woke up. Whatever it was, it caused her to cry for a good ten minutes before she was coherent enough to explain to Trista what was going on.
“I’m sorry I woke you up. It was a dream. It wasn’t bad at first though. Oh, I don’t even know how to describe it! I’m sure it was brought on by the conversation from last night. I haven’t dreamed of Neville for weeks.”
Trista gave her a big hug, consoled her for a few minutes, then told her to get some sleep and left the room. As much as Ginny liked Trista, she was glad for the last bit. She really did want to be alone at the moment.
Ginny laid back down with every intention of looking at this dream from every possible angle until she could reason out where it came from, but no more than 30 seconds passed before she was once again fast asleep.
When Ginny woke the next morning, she was not only exhausted, but she had this sneaking suspicion that she was going to be in a horrible mood today. This turned out to be a very bad thing, since today was Trista’s date with Harry, and after helping her get ready, Ginny realized that it was going to be a day during which it would be hard to get away from Janice.
“Bad dream last night?” Janice asked her as she sat in the alcove with her knitting. Tuck, loop, pull back, slide off. Tuck, loop, pull back, slide off. The knitting had a calming effect on Ginny, so she was able to evaluate what she said in response without her emotions getting in the way.
“Not particularly. I just often yell in the middle of the night. Keeps people on their toes.”
“One would think something else could be going on with the kinds of things you yell.”
Having discussed this with Trista last night, Ginny already knew what exactly it was she had yelled. “Yes, I suppose people could draw many conclusion from someone yelling ‘no’ in the middle of the night, but I’m sure you have a truly devious mind and were able to think of the worst possible thing.” She continued knitting without even looking at Janice. “I suppose you expected me to ask what it was you thought I was yelling for, yes?”
“Not particularly,” Janice answered complacently, as though Ginny wouldn’t notice the exact repeat of her earlier words.
“Well then, you’ll forgive me if I don’t.” Janice, however, didn’t leave. “Is there something I could do for you?”
Ginny almost ground her teeth but thought better of it and simply continued to knit. Tuck, loop, pull back, slide off. Tuck, loop, pull back, slide off, ram up Janice’s nose. It was hopeless, but Ginny knew that if she left now, Janice would think she had won, and Ginny would not allow Janice that kind of satisfaction.
After a few more minutes Janice finally got bored and left the room. Ginny waited another ten minutes before standing up and leaving herself. No use having won that small victory if she simply let Janice know she had been flustered by leaving too soon.
She stayed in her room most of the rest of the day. She knew it was the cowardly thing to do, but with the mood she was in, she was likely to pull out all of Janice’s hair on a whim if she saw her again. And probably get all of hers pulled out as well. Ginny hated being a coward.
Lunch had, blessedly, been on their own, so Ginny had been able to eat in her room. She had no such luck with dinner. Without Trista to give her strength and with Denise and Becky not even attempting to hold back their disgust, Ginny found herself precariously close to giving Janice the rough side of her tongue. But that wasn’t the only temptation. About half-way through the meal, Janice asked Ginny — in a sickeningly sweet voice — to pass the butter. Ginny smiled back with her teeth bared and whipped out her wand. Ginny saw Janice flinch for a second until Ginny merely levitated the butter to Janice’s side of the table. Bit twitchy, aren’t we?
When Trista got home that night, Ginny was pacing inside Trista’s room, her wand clenched in her hand and muttering to herself. She didn’t even realize that Trista was back until she spoke. “I take it the day didn’t go well.” Ginny sighed.
“What was your first clue?” Trista calmed Ginny down considerably before telling her all about the date. Trista’s eyes were shining as she spoke and Ginny wished there was some way for two people to win at this game.
The other three dates went by quickly enough and the days seemed much shorter with Trista around to keep her in check. Ginny was not forced to be alone with Janice but just being in the same room with her was bad enough. Ginny found herself daydreaming about either herself of Janice being kicked off at the next ceremony. The way Janice was making her feel lately, either would have been a relief…though, of course, Ginny would prefer Janice leaving.
Other than Janice, Ginny also fervently hoped that Laurie would be kicked off. Ginny began to notice that Laurie’s presence was almost as bad as Janice’s, as Laurie had become a Janice-wannabe. It was a very sad sight to see; almost as though Laurie was some kind of lost puppy following around what she thought was her mother. It was sickening.
Harry continued to have breakfast with the girls just about every morning but Ginny still had not found a chance to really talk to him since their date. He smiled at her every morning, but then, he smiled at all of them. Janice and Laurie were getting a little too good at making sure that Ginny didn’t sit anywhere near Harry. I think I know who she was talking about getting rid of on the phone the other day, Ginny thought bitterly, though really, she had suspected the whole time.
The night before the rose ceremony Ginny found that she couldn’t sleep. Visions of Janice and Harry were plaguing her thoughts and she kept seeing this white rose looming over her. She got out of bed but found that even her room seemed too small; she was feeling claustrophobic.
She picked up her knitting stuff and headed out to the alcove. She only had a few rows left until the scarf was finished so she told herself that she would try to get some sleep again after she had finished the whole thing. Before she sat down, she set her stuff on one of the coffee tables and opened the door to the garden, letting the night’s breeze come in and adding some extra light with the moon.
She had been knitting for a good half hour before she finally got to the final row. The last few stitches took more concentration, especially in the dark, so she didn’t notice that someone else had entered the alcove.
“Wow. That’s a really nice looking scarf,” a voice said from over her shoulder.
Hehehe Just a little cliffie for you to make you beg me for more...which, of course, won't be necessary because there's still plenty coming :)
Review! Luff ya!
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