|SIYE Time:9:31 on 22nd March 2018|
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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: 99582; Chapter Total: 4861
A very stunned looking Trista stood just inside the room, hand raised, poised to open the door. In a voice breathy with apprehension she spoke. “What just happened?”
“I just taught Janice a lesson she won’t soon forget,” Ginny muttered, pacing toward Trista’s bed.
“And might I ask why?” Trista’s voice seemed light, as though afraid Ginny might explode on her.
Ginny rounded on her suddenly, making her take a quick step back. Seeing that she had alarmed her friend, she monitored her voice and changed the biting remark she had been planning on giving. “Trust me, if you had heard what she said about Harry, you would have wanted to punch her too.”
Trista merely looked at her, at a loss for words. “So, you punched her then?”
Ginny nodded as she plopped herself down on Trista’s bed.
“No offense but, aren’t you afraid that will get you in trouble?” Trista asked tentatively.
“No, not at all. You see,” started Ginny, trying to sound off-handed. “I’m pretty sure Harry is going to kick me off next anyway. What’s a bit of trouble compared to that?” Ginny was surprised that she didn’t feel like crying at admitting this.
Trista looked confused. “I can’t believe the day at your house caused Harry to dislike you so much that he’s not planning on letting you stay so there must be something else that happened.”
“Oh yeah. I forgot; that’s the other reason I walloped her one.” Now Trista seemed genuinely baffled.
Ginny sighed and began explaining. After putting a silencing charm on the room, she told Trista everything; she told her how she had heard Janice on the mobile, and the reason she hadn’t told Trista about it before now, what Janice told Harry that Ginny had been saying, how Harry had been treating her lately and finally what Janice had said right before Ginny’s fist implanted itself in Janice’s face.
Trista, who was now sitting next to Ginny on the bed, stared across the room, her eyes not focusing on anything.
“Come on,” Ginny muttered when Trista made no move to speak. While Ginny had been explaining everything to Trista, Janice’s screams had died down and they later heard a door slam loudly down the hall, so Ginny dragged Trista into the hall and down to her own room, casting a silencing spell on her own room after the two of them entered.
“What are we doing?” Trista asked.
“I thought you could possibly help me pack.”
At this comment, Trista sat down on Ginny’s bed and cried.
Shocked and strangely flattered, Ginny sat down next to her.
“Oh Trista, please, it’s okay.”
Trista calmed herself down quickly and dabbed lightly at her eyes so as not to smear her make-up. Ginny thought this silly since it was about time for bed anyway, but didn’t comment. Instead, she leaned toward Trista and looked her straight in the face. “Why exactly are you crying?” she asked, hoping to explain to Trista how she was feeling as well.
“I don’t want you to leave,” Trista said in a voice that just barely shook but she wouldn’t meet Ginny’s eyes. “I don’t want to be here by myself with Janice and I can’t stand the thought of you having to go home.” She looked into Ginny’s face. “I think you may like Harry even more than I do, and Janice definitely doesn’t deserve him.” She sniffled and dabbed at her eyes again. Ginny almost laughed.
“I do like him, you’re right. But if he isn’t bright enough to realize that Janice is playing with him, than I’m sure I can do better.” Ginny’s heart constricted as she lied. She hadn’t known it was a lie until she spoke it. Harry really was everything she wanted in a guy…minus the whole not trusting her thing.
There was really not much more to say on the matter and after Trista calmed down, Ginny tried to convince her to get some sleep. She declined and declared that she would help Ginny pack. Ginny was grateful at first, but after a half hour of listening to Trista sniffle, and in so doing, bringing Ginny fearfully close to crying, Ginny decided that she would finish tomorrow. After hugging Trista, Ginny ushered her out of the room and sat down on her bed.
It shouldn’t take more than another half hour tomorrow to finish packing, Ginny told herself with conviction. She wouldn’t allow her subconscious to grasp that she was upset in any way.
Ginny slipped into her bathroom and washed her face then brushed her teeth. She walked back over to her bed and sat down, staring fixedly at the roses standing on her nightstand. Would she receive a white rose tomorrow? Maybe they didn’t give a white rose in the ceremony for the final two. Oh well, she’d still have these three and that was good enough for her.
Before she would allow the tears to fall, Ginny spun and shoved her face into her pillow, conveniently giving her tears a place to rest as she once again cried herself to sleep.
Gi nny slept in the next morning. Somewhere, but she couldn’t remember where, they had been told that this ceremony would take place later in the afternoon. Ginny couldn’t stand it. She wished they could just get it over with so that she wouldn’t have to think about it as much. Was it really necessary to prolong this agony?
Ginny showered, dressed, did her make-up (simply because it took up several minutes that would otherwise be spent idly) and finished her packing. Somewhere mixed in with that she had breakfast. All this took less than an hour. It was only 11 o’clock and Ginny had no idea what else to do.
Checking to see if the coast was clear, Ginny scampered over to Trista’s room and silently slipped in. Trista was sitting on her bed reading a book. “Oh, hi!” she bubbled from her perch.
“I’m bored,” Ginny muttered as comically as possible hoping to make up, in her own mind, for the tears shed the night before. It worked a bit because Trista laughed and, placing her book mark, set the novel beside her on the bed.
“Do you have anything fun to do?”
“No,” Trista laughed. “Never.”
Ginny couldn’t remember exactly what they did to pass the time but it consisted of a lot of laughing and a several handfuls of candy. Ginny found herself very grateful that Trista wasn’t one of those weight-watching girls, or else Ginny would have been forced to eat healthy food for the whole time she was here. She couldn’t figure out where Trista got it all, though. She couldn’t possibly have brought it all with her. When Ginny asked, Trista merely grinned, eyes sparkling, and informed her that it was a secret.
Dinner that night, which felt more like lunch to Ginny, having had such a late breakfast, Trista and Ginny found themselves eating alone. Harry never did show up and after a couple minutes of waiting, plus some hate-filled, bruised-eyed glares, Janice huffed from the room claiming that she wanted to eat alone. Ginny wondered why Janice hadn’t tried to find someone to heal her wound but figured that Janice must have wanted Harry to see the bruise that Ginny gave her. Ginny sure was proud of it. Less than a day had passed and already it was a beautiful plum color with dark and light green patches along the edge. Not bad for the first time Ginny had every seriously punched anyone. Her brother’s didn’t count; they existed merely for the purpose of being her personal punching bags, after all.
After dinner Trista and Ginny went back to Trista’s room and paced as comically as they could, laughing at the others feigned, yet at the same time, all too real, nervousness. It was like a play. First Ginny would get up and pace, her fingernails between her teeth as though, in her supposed nervousness, she was gnawing them off. Trista would laugh and take her place, her eyes darting around the room as she wrung her hands dramatically. It was a good way to pass the time, but it couldn’t last forever and after what seemed like no time, they were summoned to what Trista now decided to call the “Fancy meetin’ room,” which she would say laughingly, complete with a southern American accent. They giggled about it the whole way there, laughing harder when Janice would glare at them out the corner of her suddenly un-bruised eye. Apparently she had wanted Harry to see the injury, but the rest of the world was another story. Trista and Ginny shared knowing glances along with their giggles when they noticed Janice’s eye.
Ginny didn’t want it to end.
But as they sat in the comfortable arm chairs awaiting the fanfare that would announce Connie’s arrival, Ginny realized that it would end. It would end in just a few minutes. It was bitter sweet. Mostly bitter, with Janice shooting triumphant glances her way now that their giggling had stopped. Ginny preferred her glares.
The fanfare blared and Ginny’s heart stopped. This was it. It took all of her self-control to keep the tears from falling anew as Connie stopped talking, gestured behind her, and Harry entered.
Ginny sat on her bed listening to Janice down the hall. It was over and Janice couldn’t believe it. Neither could Ginny. She looked over at her nightstand at the four red roses standing, just barely suspended above the rosewood table. Four.
Janice whined again from her room and Ginny couldn’t help but smile through her confusion. Janice obviously hadn’t been prepared to be sent home, especially with such a cold dismissal from Harry. The girls were supposed to be at least partially packed before the ceremony so that some of her things could be carried out to the departing limo ahead of time, but Janice, being as confident as she was, hadn’t packed a bit. And now she was to be heading home.
Ginny could imagine Tier’s response to this turn of events. She had wanted either Ginny or Trista to beat Janice. Little did she know how well that hope would come to pass. They had both beat her. If only Tier had been here instead of Janice. But, no. One of them would have had to leave today anyway so it would have been almost as bad. It would have been nice to have gotten a little more time with Tier, however. But Ginny was ecstatic. Janice was leaving and Trista and Ginny were both still there. There was still the last ceremony to worry about, but that could be thought of later. Right now, Ginny just wanted to bask in the knowledge that she had beaten Janice, which was highlighted every few minutes when Janice would make another outraged noise. Ginny desperately wanted to overhear Janice’s next conversation with Dustin. Wouldn’t that be entertaining?
And then Janice was gone. Like a bad dream, she was gone. Gone. Ginny smiled and sighed, satisfied. It wasn’t until she lay on her bed in the dark that she realized how sudden it all was. Last night Ginny would have bet that she was Harry’s least favorite person in the world and that Janice was the most honest, then suddenly everything changed. Why did he change his mind? Not that I’m complaining, of course.
Ginny had just decided that she was going to spend the next hour or so contemplating this before falling asleep when she thought she heard her door open.
Bolting upright, Ginny clutched the sheets to her chest. “Who’s there?” she asked hoarsely.
She nearly passed out when Harry Potter’s head suddenly appeared out of thin air.
Please, don't complain about me skipping over the ceremony like I did; I had a good reason for it. Had I gone into detail than I would have felt the need to end the chapter there and the whole Harry-suddenly-appearing-in-her-bedroom thing seemed more like a cliffhanger than merely a beginning to a chapter, know what I mean? Thank for all your reviews! I've passed my average-of-ten-reviews-per-chapter which I had been working on. So, now I'm going to go do my shoot-myself-in-the-head-for-using-way-t oo-many-dashes. Gah.
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