Unbreakable (Part III of III) - A gift for accio_catawba!
Title: Unbreakable
Author: jhestia85
Recipient: accio_catawba
Pairing(s): Hermione/Ginny
Word Count: Chapter: 6405, Complete: 16789
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Sexual Situations, Character Death, Voyeurism, Dub-Con, Strong Profanities
Summary:
Time has a habit of changing our lives, our thoughts, our priorities; the things that were important to us then are often not what are important to us now. We’re remoulded and reshaped, our malleable selves determined by new desires, new goals, new feelings to be passionate about. That’s what makes us human.
I am Hermione Granger. I’m twenty-two years old. I have a new reason to live, and it’s Ginny Weasley.
Hermione Granger has been asked to investigate Pansy Parkinson’s successful and suspicious escort company. But when she joins Glamour Escort Services under a false identity, she’s forced to make decisions she never expected to.
Author's Notes: This story contains one more pairing I cannot list since I don’t want to spoil. :) I had a lot of fun writing it and I would like to thank accio_catawba for her inspiring prompt, and to scarletladyy for organising this fest, and for being a helpful and generous mod! I don’t own intend to infringe on any copyright pertaining to Erin Brockovich or the Harry Potter characters. Or Donnie Brasco. It was Sirius and Remus, if you’re wondering about something in Chapter 2.
Chapter 3: An Unbreakable Vow
I was always scared of heights. That’s why I didn’t like flying on brooms. Riding the Hippogriff was a nightmare, and I tried to forget I’d once clung onto the back of a blind dragon. At this moment, perched on the windowsill with legs dangling from the third floor, I’m starting to think this isn’t so bad. Vertigo is something you can deal with. Acrophobia has no bearing upon your conscience.
It isn’t these fears that haunt you or bring you humiliation. No. Shame and unease arrive when you do something wrong while being aware of its wrongness. Shame and unease are the shadows on my face after the heat has left and my feet are cold.
But before that shame and unease, there lies a winding, blinding undergrowth full of velvet petals and thorns that I walk through naked, knowing that the bliss is fleeting and the bleeding, lasting. She is not Ginny. She is not Ginny. She isn’t. The freckles splattered over the nose are an illusion, crafted by the magic of an expert who has never heard her laugh. She is not Ginny. Her arms, though wiry and quick, probably never held a Quaffle. She is not Ginny. Those lips never kissed Harry’s. She is not Ginny.
She isn’t, and yet, I cannot help feel safe under her gaze.
I am bound to the bed, dressed as a Hogwarts student, and she is in her Harpies uniform, as she is in every performance. I want to hate her, inflict on her the sense of defeat and helplessness consuming me. I want to shake her and yell at her to take a good look at herself. You are not bloody Ginny, I want to scream. Stop acting like you are. Stop this madness. Stop this sham.
I don’t. The light falls directly upon her, making the redness of her hair flare up in rebellion against the dimness of the room. It burns, reminding me of Ginny whenever she’s under the sun. And then she’s taking her shirt off, and the hardness of the belly, the smallness of the breasts - they are Ginny. The smile on her lips, the way she throws her head back - they are Ginny. I’ve seen Ginny with Harry far too many times to not think that when she pulls off my skirt, wraps my legs around her and plants kisses upon my pants, the look of adoration on her face is Ginny.
“Release me,” I tell her.
“Say please.”
And the voice is always Ginny.
“Please.” Her nails are grazing across my thighs. “Please.”
“What will you do if I release you?” she asks, licking my knee.
“I’ll - I’ll fuck you.”
“Promise?”
“Yes. Yes, I promise.”
The cuffs fall off, and I’m free. I spring up and push her down, kissing her on the lips furiously, hungrily. We roll on the bed - it’s almost like a fight - to be the one on top. Sliding off, I order her to come for me, walking backwards until I can feel the cold, solid glass against my back. But before I can sneak a glance, she grabs my hair and forces me to look at her.
Then, I forget about the mirror.
+++
I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be here. It could blow my cover and destroy the whole operation. But I had to, for the sake of my sanity. I have to see Ginny outside of that room and remind myself that the real Ginny is a completely different person.
I’m in a café across the Harpies’ office, waiting for her to come out with her team. She once told me she hated the food at the canteen, so she usually has her lunch in this place. Sure enough, a few minutes after one, they walk out the front door, a noisy, carefree bunch, and cross the street. I readjust the hood of my sweater and push the sunglasses further up my nose. As they file past me, I watch her. She is grinning.
They fill up the long table behind me, shouting and yelling about being hungry enough to eat a dragon, moaning about being harassed by their coach. I try not to feel jealous of their uncomplicated life. I bite into my sandwich and chew it as though I’m eating as a punishment; I don’t feel remotely hungry.
“Hey, Weasley! Here’s another strand of your bloody hair.”
“Oh no!” Ginny groans. “I swear I’m going to go bald at this rate.”
“Stressing out, are you?”
“Nah,” Ginny replies. “I’ll have to get it cut.”
“That’s not gonna stop it. You should talk to a Healer. I mean, it’s getting really bad, isn’t it?”
So, Ginny’s been losing hair. I wonder why.
“Here are your orders, girls!” chirps the waitress. “Now, don’t move. My wand is trying to handle twelve different glasses. We don’t want accidents.”
“Chocolate shake again?” Ginny moans. “Wilma, I would like to try something different now.”
“Oh, honey, you love it, don’t you?”
“Well, I do. But I’d like to try something else next time. Like ... Oh damn, you’re right. I do love this bloody shake.”
There is a round of laughter. It makes me smile.
“Anything else?” asks the waitress.
“No, thanks. Please get me the bill.”
“All right.”
I come out of the café, my faith restored. The Ginny I meet every day is not my friend, just an imposter. It doesn’t matter that I think about her all the time. She’s a mirage. She’ll be gone when I get too close. The real Ginny won’t, even though she’ll never kiss me or look at me the way I want her to. That knowledge makes me both happy and devastated.
When I turn around the corner, I almost scream. Slapping my hand across my mouth, I backtrack hurriedly and head straight for the nearest alley. Dmitri is here.
+++
Today is my third Friday as Hermione; I only have a week remaining with her. I’m adamant I won’t continue working after that. If I have to do something about this case, it needs to be done before the next month starts. Selene Rhodes is my sole chance.
Not once have I met any of the other employees or seen any of the clients. Jacques doesn’t even mention the other stylists. To be honest, I’m not sure if there are other stylists. The lounge is always empty whenever I’m in the area. Pansy must have had some sort of magic in place that has made this arrangement possible, but Rhodes is the receptionist. She must be privy to such information. If the two of us work together, we might be able to think of a way to use what we know in order to expose Pansy’s business.
I must talk to Rhodes in private. The fact that she has been taking Calming Draughts and crying in the toilets hints she is traumatised. If I can convince her that we could escape this, she might agree to help me. With this newfound hope, I enter Glamour Escort Services. The buoyancy is punctured when I see a different girl at Rhodes’ desk.
“Where’s Selene?” I ask her.
“She’s not well. She’s taken a few days off.”
“Any idea what’s wrong with her?”
“No.”
On the way to my room, I signal Boot through the coin.
+++
“Yes, Donnie?”
“I need Selene Rhodes’ address.”
“Breakthrough?”
“We’ll see.”
“Just give me a few moments.”
+++
The area where Selene Rhodes lives is much nicer than mine. Pansy must pay her a larger salary. There are quite a few Muggles out, so I draw my coat over me to hide the wand. Rhodes has put up a few wards around the place. I break them quite easily.
I knock on the door a fair few times before it opens. Selene has a hood drawn over her face. She raises it by a few inches, finds me at her doorstep and blinks several times.
“They said you were-”
She grabs my arm and draws me inside. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
It’s only when we’re in the living room that she lowers her hood. She looks awful. Half of her hair is gone, and what remains on her scalp is a mixture of white and blonde. “Shit! It’s got much worse.”
“Of course it has! I never stopped taking it, did I?”
“Selene, I-”
“Why are you here?” she hisses at me. “Are you here to laugh at me?”
“I’m here to help.”
She shakes her head, more in disbelief than disappointment. “I am beyond help now. I’m done.”
I reach for her hand but she withdraws it under the sleeve. Then, throwing herself on the sofa, she immediately breaks down. Sighing, I join her, gingerly putting my arm around her shoulder.
“We can do something about it,” I say. “I wanted to see you anyway, so we could work together and get out of this mess. Get Parkinson arrested. Have the place shut down.”
“That’s not going to make everything okay for me, you know,” she says. “I killed my father.”
Although shocked, I don’t say anything and let her speak.
“We didn’t know what we were getting into when we took the original oath of employment. None of us. Their business was legitimate then, and Dad had worked for Padraig Parkinson for years before Glamour started. Pansy knew I had a boyfriend. She approached me about this thing I could do. I didn’t tell my dad about this, but he eventually found out. He tried to stop me, but I didn’t listen to him. It was easy money. Both Carl and I were basically getting paid for shagging, even though we did it as other people. It was wrong, but we were both stupid, you know.”
She stops for a while, gazing into the distance. In an effort to encourage her, I rest my hand over hers. They’re covered in blisters, but I don’t recoil. She doesn’t shake it off.
“Dad didn’t like it. He thought it was illegal, and it was. He found some photographs of me that weren’t really ... decent. We had a big row over that. Though I’d taken them back, he had managed to steal them back and donated them to the Ministry in his will, effectively breaking the Vow.”
“You didn’t kill him,” I assure her. “There was no way you could have broken the contract or turned against Pansy. Your father made his own choice.”
“I was greedy,” she mutters. “But I gave up the ... the sex.”
“Where’s Carl?”
“He left me after the fiasco of my father’s death and the subsequent inquiry. He’s still working there. We pretend we don’t know each other personally. I just ...” She pauses, smiling sadly. “I just wish Dad had found the third photograph and given them to the Ministry as well.”
“You mean there were more than two?”
“Yes. The third one was charmed to show the role I could play.” She turns towards me at last. “You’re with the Ministry, aren’t you?”
I nod.
“D’you know Hermione Granger?” she asks me.
I nod again.
“You could pass for twins.”
This time, it’s my turn to smile in bitterness. “Do you have access to the assignments?”
“No. But I do have a list of the employees’ names and the partners they have worked with, as well as their resumés and employment records, which include the mandatory photographs of themselves in disguise. I left duplicates in the office. They will self-destruct after a week, by which time, the place will have been shut down.”
“You said mandatory photographs. I wasn’t required to provide mine.”
She shrugs. “Maybe Parkinson reckoned you could pass off as Hermione Granger one day. The thing is, no amount of magical charm can make you look like somebody else completely, unless you’re using a Polyjuice Potion. There must be a few slight differences. But it works for the perverts behind the mirror. Mine was -”
“Stop!” I yell. “You can’t give me particulars. You’ll break the Vow.”
This time, her smile is joyous. “I don’t care,” she says, gripping my hand. “I want to be free.”
“So - so, you are going to -?”
“Give all the evidence I can to the Ministry,” she replies. “And ... die. Peacefully. Without guilt.”
“But-”
Pointing a finger at her head, she tells me, “I can’t do this anymore. This is not how anybody’s supposed to live.” She picks up her wand and conjures a huge folder out of the air. “Can I trust you with this?”
“What is it?”
“The evidence. You can end it all by giving this to your people. I was planning to hand it over myself, but in a way, this is better. I can go quietly before the Ministry people barge into my house to interrogate me.” She opens the folder, takes out a sheet of parchment and seals the rest with a charm. “You’ll be fine as long as you don’t view the contents. Technically, you’re giving away a few papers I asked you to.”
“Even if you’ve told me what they are?”
“How do you know I’m not lying?” she asks.
“Fair point.”
“This,” she offers me the single sheet, “is for you.”
I don’t take it yet. “What is it?”
“It’s your record. It has the name of your partner on it. I reckoned you might want to keep that a secret.”
Overcome with gratitude, I hug her. She embraces me back tightly, and we don’t let go for a while. I think I know why.
“Thanks,” I whisper.
“No, thank you.”
Afterwards, when I’m about to Disapparate, I ask her one last question. “How did you manage to steal this folder out of Glamour?”
She grins. “I threw them out the toilet ventilator.”
+++
I’m in the kitchen, the folder on one side of the table, a cup of tea on the other, and my record in the middle. It has been wiped clean by Selene; I can only retrieve the writing with a revealing charm.
Tomorrow, I will meet Boot and give her the evidence.
Tonight, I will learn who has been posing as Ginny.
Part of me doesn’t want to find out. How would I feel if it turns out to be some random girl? What if it’s somebody I recognise? Although I’ve been aware of the undisputed fact that every single thing that happened in the chamber is a sham, I’ve also been growing accustomed to it as a part of my life. In a way, it brought a semblance of constancy. I was with Ginny - or I was with a girl who looked and sounded exactly like her. Suddenly remembering Selene’s words, I amend myself.
There can be no one exactly like Ginny.
Every rule, however, has an exception. Pansy managed to find somebody, just as she managed to find me for Hermione. There is a girl somewhere who can don Ginny Weasley’s looks, voice, laughter and attitude and make them her own.
Perhaps, it’s not such a bad idea finding out who she is. That would shatter the delusion I keep slipping into so often.
To gather some courage, I pick up the mug of tea and sip some. Then, pointing my wand at the parchment, I utter, “Revelio!” Black ink gradually appears on the blank white. I can feel my stomach clenching as I lean for a closer look.
The silence in the flat is broken as the mug crashes onto the floor. There is only one name next to mine in every single performance.
Ginevra W.
+++
It’s Saturday morning. I don’t have to open the papers to see what’s on the front page. In fact, not seeing Selene’s picture might keep me hiding for some time. I’ve already dropped the coin in a glass of water so I can ignore Boot.
I want answers to several questions and I am not about to emerge before I get them. Why would Ginny do this? How could she? Is this what she’s been losing her hair over? Does she need the money that badly? Or is she doing this because she enjoys herself? How long has she been working here? Is she okay about shagging a Hermione look-alike? Does she enjoy it? Why hasn’t she tried to contact me?
But I am not me.
Picking up my wand, I Apparate into my other flat, the one where I should be living. It’s clean and tidy due to the numerous charms and wards I put up. I didn’t stop owl post, though. There is no letter for me. And then I remember I’m not supposed to be here. Hermione Granger is on a bloody mission to Budapest. Why should Ginny send letters here? Cursing loudly, I return to Cabros’ living room.
I have to see Ginny. I cannot give the papers to Boot before I speak to her and ask her why. I break her wards and Apparate right into her bedroom, but her place is empty. Maybe she’s at the Burrow. I can’t risk going there yet.
Before I can Disapparate, I can hear the noise of two resounding cracks coming from the living room. It’s Ginny. She’s giggling. And the other voice is that of a man.
“Why don’t you stay with me?” she asks him.
I Disillusion myself and quietly leave, deliberately not looking at them kissing on the sofa. When I return to my own place, I notice that the glass where I put the fake Galleon in is shaking violently. The coin has overheated, causing the water to boil.
+++
“Where the hell have you been?” This time, Boot’s truly not impressed. “Did you read the sodding Prophet yesterday?”
“I did. Selene’s dead.”
“You wanted her address. Did you go to see her?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“She shooed me away.”
“And that’s the truth, is it? Do you take me for an idiot?”
“No,” I say, suddenly desperate. “One week, just one week, Boot. You’ll have everything.”
“One week. That’s all you’re getting before I drag your arse back here and force-feed you Veritaserum.”
+++
Jacques is fiddling with a wedding dress when I walk into my room. “Morning, Donnie,” he wishes me cheerily. Then, he gasps. “But you are already Hermione Granger.”
“I am,” I tell him. I didn’t come as Donnita Cabros today. “You can leave it all to me today.”
“Ah.”
I conjure up a full-length mirror, ignoring his protests, and remove all my clothes till I’m naked. “Give me the dress,” I order him. He looks almost scared as he passes on the long, white gown. I put it on and get ready.
“You’re early,” he tries to say, but I’ve already left. I rip the satin belt off along the way, then standing next to the door, wait. Already, I can hear her footsteps growing louder. She’s early, too. As soon as she enters, I grab her from behind.
“Sssshhh. It’s me. Hermione.” She stops struggling and doesn’t protest as I bind her hands with the ribbon. “Hello, Ginny.”
“Hi,” she says. There is no hint of alarm in her voice. She doesn’t react when I pull out my wand and run the tip along the middle of her Quidditch shirt. The fabric splits, revealing her breasts and erect nipples.
“You like this?” I ask, cupping her breasts.
“Yes.”
“I am sick of your Quidditch look, Ginny.”
“Then get rid of it.”
“Oh, I will,” I tell her coolly, removing the rest of her clothes with my wand. “With pleasure.”
+++
If I hated her yesterday, I love her today. I thought that I resented her for having power over me, but now, our naked bodies entwined, our chests pressed together, and our tongues exploring each other’s mouth, I realise that conclusion was wrong. I wanted Ginny to feel a little of what I’ve been going through, to be as confused as I have been, but it’s almost as though she knew it was me all along.
The eyes. I think that’s where the truth is. Her warm brown eyes. We may not be together outside of this room, but here, it doesn’t matter. I don’t even give a damn for the voyeur watching us on the other side anymore.
“What if we just fall asleep here?” I ask her, spent.
She nuzzles into my neck and says, “Then we sleep.”
I laugh and close my eyes, but when I wake up, she’s gone.
Later, when I reach home, I Summon her papers from the folder and, without looking at them, burn them.
+++
Time has a habit of changing our lives, our thoughts, our priorities; the things that were important to us then are often not what are important to us now. We’re remoulded and reshaped, our malleable selves determined by new desires, new goals, new feelings to be passionate about. That’s what makes us human.
I am Hermione Granger. I’m twenty-two years old. I have a new reason to live, and it’s Ginny Weasley.
There’s no one else for me now. With Ginny, I don’t have to make a fresh start or apologise for my faults. She has known me, always. We’ve been friends for years. We’ve been through the same horrors. We’ve held hands in desperate times. With Ginny, I won’t have to let go of the past that made me who I am. With her, I am safe. With her, I am happy.
“I wish I’d known all along,” I tell her. She’s lying with her head resting upon my chest, hair spread all over me. It smells of roses, as it always does.
“Known what?”
“That it was you.”
There is no answer.
“But you knew it was me, didn’t you?” I ask to confirm.
“Yes,” she murmurs. “You can’t escape yourself, Hermione. You’re always you.”
She laughs softly and draws patterns on my skin with her fingers. We’ve descended into silence. I decide to change the topic.
“Is your hair okay now?”
“Hmm?”
“Weren’t you having trouble with hair loss?”
She sits up instantly. “How do you know?”
“I - I was in that café where you go with your friends, and I-”
“Hermione.” She puts a hand over my mouth. “Don’t ever do that again. It’s dangerous.”
“But we already-”
“Just stay away from me,” she says earnestly. “Trust me. It’s safer that way.”
+++
Ginny doesn’t know yet about what is going to happen over the weekend; Glamour Escort Services will be shut down and its owners, arrested. I haven’t confided in her because I’m scared. I don’t know how she’ll react since I’m not privy to her motives for being here in the first place. What if she wants this job? What if it is a form of escape for her? Do I even know what she’s been going through? I’ve been so shut in by my own losses that I shut out everybody else. Her relationship with Harry is over. Did I ever try to talk to her about it?
There’s also an undeniably selfish part of me that doesn’t want this precarious balance to shift. If I can’t have Ginny outside of this, then I want to have her now.
But I have to give up the papers. I have to finish this. It’s the right thing to do. Ginny must be told now, before she wakes up on Saturday morning and finds out through the Prophet. She doesn’t deserve the shock, nor the betrayal from me.
“It ends tomorrow,” I start, pulling on my clothes.
“You never know.”
“Ginny, there’s something I have to tell you, but we can’t talk here. I need to see you tonight.”
She throws up her arms in frustration. “Hermione, how many times do I have to tell you-”
“This is important.” I look at her seriously. “I’ll meet you at your place.”
+++
I no longer live as Donnita; I use the identity only while getting in and out Glamour’s premises. At home, the contacts and nose are discarded. The Engorgement Charms go. Only the straight black hair remains, but that is quickly fixed with a few charms. I don’t miss Donnita a single bit.
It’s six o’clock now. I’m kneading my hands in an effort to calm down. You’re doing the right thing, I keep reminding myself. She’ll understand. Half an hour later, I pick up my wand - my original wand - to Apparate, but I can’t move. Anti-Apparation wards must have been set up at her place. I Apparate into the street outside her house instead, using a corner alley, and walk up to the house and ring the buzzer.
“Who’s this?” Her voice is slightly nervous.
“Hermione.”
“Oh!” She sounds surprised. I can’t work out what that means for us. “Well, come on up.” A happier tone. That gives me some relief.
“Hey!”
She looks delighted to see me and pulls me into a hug. “When did you get back from Budapest?” she asks excitedly.
I roll my eyes as I walk inside. “Anti-Apparation wards?” I inquire.
“Oh, that! I think somebody broke in the other day. All my wards were down. Just wanted to be careful.” She leads us to the sofa, flinging herself on it. “What’s new with you? Or is it all top-secret stuff?”
“Stop it,” I mutter irritably. “I told you I’d be here.”
“You sent me an owl? I’m sorry. Pig has gone mental. He won’t let an owl near the place. I haven’t got owl post in weeks.”
“No,” I snap. “Ginny, stop this, seriously. There’s something I have to share with you before we see each other again tomorrow.”
“All right, calm down! I don’t know what I’m supposed to have done, but never mind. You can tell me anything you want to.”
“You are really good at this, aren’t you?” I scoff. Anger is getting the better of me.
A frown creases her face. “Hermione,” she says carefully, ”what’s going on?”
“What’s going on?” I say loudly. “Ginny, it’s okay now. You don’t have to pretend any longer. It’s all going to be over soon, so you might want to stop acting like we haven’t been fu-”
“Hello!” Dennis Creevey barges into the room with a stupid grin on his face. “Hermione, haven’t seen you in ages.”
I turn to Ginny, who is staring at me with her mouth hanging open. “How long have you been together?” I demand.
“What the hell is up with you?” she snaps at me.
“Uhm.” Dennis shifts uncomfortably. “I’ll just go to the bathroom.”
“Have you been taking her pictures?” I ask him.
“Well, yeah.”
“And I suppose she’s not wearing anything in them.”
An apologetic smile appears on Dennis’ face, but Ginny’s now getting up. “And why do you have a problem with that? You’re not my bloody mum.”
“I’m not,” I say, preparing to leave. “I’m nothing.”
“Hermione!” she shouts, but I’m already running down the stairs, eager to reach home and have a drink. For tomorrow, I must appeal to the kind of bravery I don’t usually rely upon. But tonight is relentless in its insistence to torture me. Before I can reach the alley, somebody stops me.
“Granger.”
Pansy Parkinson is standing under a tree, immaculately robed in black and enjoying a cigarette. “Didn’t know you lived in these parts,” she says.
“Didn’t know you did.”
She smiles. “I don’t. I came to check up on a friend.”
“You have friends. That’s news.”
“Come on,” she says earnestly. “We’re no longer at Hogwarts.”
“Some things don’t change.”
She lets the cigarette drop and puts it out. “I wouldn’t bet on that,” she says. Then, with a little bow and a smirk, she walks away, leaving me alone in the street.
+++
Today is my last day with Ginny in this chamber, and it is ending with a charade. This thought, though repulsive, gives me strength. I carefully apply make-up on my face and pull my hair into a sleek bun. Then, I select a set of robes I’ve been refusing to put on so far, much to Jacques’ indignation: scarlet and distinctive. An Auror’s uniform. I split it at the thigh.
She’s in the room when I enter, her expression uncertain. Her eyes widen at my ensemble. “That’s not you,” she says.
“I don’t want to be me,” I tell her. “Now, kneel.”
“Hermione -”
“Kneel,” I repeat, pointing my wand at her. “This is just a performance, isn’t it? So, let’s perform. Kneel, Ginny.”
Reluctantly, she obeys me. I walk behind her and pull up her chin gently; the light falls on her face. “How does it feel now?” I ask her when she closes her eyes. “Can’t stand the glare, can you? I couldn’t either. Your hair burnt like a flame every time I was lying on the bed, under your body, under your charm. I was helpless. I was trapped. I was going mad and I didn’t know what to think. Was it the real you? If so, where did that put me?”
I pull her up and shove her into the bed. “But you played it like a professional. You were my lover as long as you got Galleons for it. You were my lover as long as that swine there -” I point a finger at the mirror -“was entertained.”
Apart from the rise and fall of her chest, she barely moves.
“Not today,” I say. “Today, it is my rules, Ginny.”
“What do you want me to do?” she asks at last.
I remove the robes and face the mirror. “You know what to do.”
Then, I switch off. I don’t feel her hands, or her lips, or her tongue, or her finger. I don’t feel any of it; I refuse to. I stand here, vaguely aware of my body swaying as she tries to crack my shell. I don’t move when, with tears running down her face, she kisses me. I don’t react when she pushes me closer to the mirror, and using my wand, clears the screen. It’s only when I notice the empty sofa on the other side that I stir.
“There was nobody,” she says. “It was just us.”
I look at her uncomprehendingly. Even as she picks up my robes and covers me up, I can’t move my jaws.
“Well, it’s about time, anyway,” she says, returning to the bed. She pulls out a wand from underneath the mattress and conjures a glass of wine. “Just a few more seconds.”
Our eyes are locked. Slowly, and to my utmost horror, her brown irises change to green. The freckles disappear, replaced by unblemished milky white skin. The red hair goes darker and darker until it becomes as black as night. The Quidditch robes change to a green silk dress. “Pansy,” I gasp.
“Yes,” she says, finishing off her wine in one go. “It was me.”
I slide to the floor and draw the robes closer around my body. The room has gone much, much colder. “Why?”
“Just wanted to mess with you,” she says. “At first. You can’t trust the mirrors in this place.”
“You ... you saw me,” I manage to say. Things are quickly, heavily falling into place. “When I hexed Selene on my first day.”
“I did. I saw you. Great disguise, but it failed. Your accent may have changed; your voice didn’t.”
“You succeeded. You had her right down to the toes, including the voice.”
Even before Pansy comments, I answer myself. No amount of magical charm can make you look like somebody else completely, unless you’re using a Polyjuice Potion. “There’s something in that chocolate shake,” I say. “You’re bribing the waitress.”
“Controlling her,” she corrects me. “Turns out Galleons can’t buy everything. I have a friend in the Harpies, so I was aware of their routine. Our family stocks Polyjuice Potion. I was able to arrange everything the night before we started.”
“Dmitri. Imperius Curse.” Shaking my head, I say, “All this. Just to get back at me. You could have wiped my memory on the first day. You could have turned me away and carried on with your business. But vengeance is sweeter, isn’t it, Pansy? Though, I haven’t done you any harm except the old enmity from Hogwarts.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, don’t act like you’re above it,” she retorts angrily. “Don’t be such a hypocrite. You were quick to take a jab at me yesterday.”
“And that is supposed to equal what you did to me?”
“No,” she says. “It was never my plan to draw this out longer than necessary. I thought I’d fire you once I’d had my fun.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“Merlin, you’re such a fucking idiot.”
“Oh, for the love of God, don’t tell me you fell in love with-”
“But I did!” she yells, shutting me up. “I fell for you. Do you know what you gave me, Hermione?” I don’t answer. “I haven’t loved anybody decent. None of them showed me what tenderness meant. No one but you. Now, I know what it is like to stay in love with someone who will stick with you.”
“It wasn’t you I was making love to, Pansy,” I remind her.
She gets off the bed and joins me on the floor. “It was,” she says. “Weasley was never here.”
“It’s not the same.”
“Then what are you going to do?”
“Go home,” I say truthfully.
“To -” she raises her wand and pulls a folder out of mid air “-this?”
Although stunned at first, I begin laughing. “Was that planted by you as well?”
“I wish. Selene actually managed to steal them. Thought she wouldn’t break the Vow, but she did go mad in the end. Not surprised she chose life over death. Dmitri retrieved it from your place yesterday while you went to see Weasley.” She Vanishes the folder. “And now, it’s in safer hands.”
“Let me go,” I beg her tiredly at last.
“Come with me instead,” she tells me with a kiss.
+++
She’s not Ginny.
The hands caress me like they always have; the heat of the tongue is very familiar; her mouth tastes the same.
But she’s not Ginny.
A little after midnight, I leave her sleeping peacefully on her bed, and go straight to Grimmauld Place. If Harry’s sleeping, he’ll have to wake up. To my relief, he isn’t. He’s in the kitchen, scrubbing a huge pot.
“Harry.”
He finds me standing there and drops the pan in surprise. “You gave me a shock.”
I run to him and slip my arms under his, breaking down. The tears come so fast and thick that they sting. Harry doesn’t ask any questions; he draws me closer. I cry for a long time; I cry until the weight on my body subsides. He finally makes me sit down on a chair and asks me if I am okay.
“Were you afraid, Harry, when you ... when you went to the Forest?”
“What do you mean?”
“Walking into certain death,” I say. “What is that like?”
“You fought in the war, Hermione. You are no stranger to living on the brink of death.”
“It’s different,” I insist. “There was always a chance I’d come out alive.”
After a heavy sigh, he shrugs. “I was scared.”
“Even though you knew you were dying for the right cause?”
“Even then.”
“Thanks.”
“Why do you ask?” He observes me closely. “What are you thinking of doing?”
“Oh, don’t worry,” I say airily. “I’ve been working on a case and it has been ... daunting. But it’ll be closed tomorrow. Two people involved died. You could almost say they committed suicide.”
“And you’ll be okay?”
I smile. “I’ll be free.”
“That’s good.”
“Harry,” I ask him again, “do you ever want to return to the past?”
He takes a while to respond, fiddling with a goblet. “No,” he says. “It’s tainted now.”
“I think so too. It can’t be the same.” Taking a deep breath, I add, “Ron’s dead.”
+++
Everything’s ready. A signed statement. Phials of memory extracts. My notebook. I put them together in a case and lock it with fifteen different charms that only Boot can break. Then, I leave Donnita Cabros behind and Apparate right into my boss’s garden.
“Hermione,” she greets me. “Well done!”
I give her the case and, without thanking her for the compliment, return to my own flat. I don’t want to meet my parents; Boot will have to take care of that part. I am not brave enough to inform them myself of what I’ve done.
It’s great to be home. Instead of regret, I only feel a great sense of calm. All I have left to do now is sleep - that shouldn’t be a problem. But the bell rings a few minutes after I’ve settled on my bed with a good book. If it’s Pansy, I’ll have to drive her away. If it’s Dmitri, I might kill him. Armed with my wand, I check the peephole.
It’s Ginny.
“Hey, I am completely sorry about last night,” I say breathlessly as soon as I open the door. “Not sure what had got into me. I was hexed in Budapest and I think I imagined you -”
“Can I come in?” she asks.
“It’s kind of late.”
“Can you stop being a cow?”
“Right. Come in.”
“I’ve been looking all over for you,” she begins. “I came here five times today, I checked the Ministry. I even checked with Harry earlier. Where the hell were you?”
“Can’t say. I was working.”
“Hermione,” she says, sighing. “Look, I was terrible last night.”
“I was obnoxious.”
She rolls her eyes. “We can talk now. You can tell me what it was.”
“It’s all right,” I assure her. “I was hexed. I was a little unstable.”
“You sure?” she says sceptically.
“Yeah.”
“Are we okay?”
“Of course we are.”
Grinning, she draws her arms around me. I smell her hair. Menthol. When she kisses my cheek, the ache in me is faint. The spell has wholly broken.
“I’ll see you soon, okay?” she says before I close the door.
“Yeah,” I reply. Then, with a smile, I head for my bed and my book.
Author: jhestia85
Recipient: accio_catawba
Pairing(s): Hermione/Ginny
Word Count: Chapter: 6405, Complete: 16789
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Sexual Situations, Character Death, Voyeurism, Dub-Con, Strong Profanities
Summary:
Time has a habit of changing our lives, our thoughts, our priorities; the things that were important to us then are often not what are important to us now. We’re remoulded and reshaped, our malleable selves determined by new desires, new goals, new feelings to be passionate about. That’s what makes us human.
I am Hermione Granger. I’m twenty-two years old. I have a new reason to live, and it’s Ginny Weasley.
Hermione Granger has been asked to investigate Pansy Parkinson’s successful and suspicious escort company. But when she joins Glamour Escort Services under a false identity, she’s forced to make decisions she never expected to.
Author's Notes: This story contains one more pairing I cannot list since I don’t want to spoil. :) I had a lot of fun writing it and I would like to thank accio_catawba for her inspiring prompt, and to scarletladyy for organising this fest, and for being a helpful and generous mod! I don’t own intend to infringe on any copyright pertaining to Erin Brockovich or the Harry Potter characters. Or Donnie Brasco. It was Sirius and Remus, if you’re wondering about something in Chapter 2.
Chapter 3: An Unbreakable Vow
I was always scared of heights. That’s why I didn’t like flying on brooms. Riding the Hippogriff was a nightmare, and I tried to forget I’d once clung onto the back of a blind dragon. At this moment, perched on the windowsill with legs dangling from the third floor, I’m starting to think this isn’t so bad. Vertigo is something you can deal with. Acrophobia has no bearing upon your conscience.
It isn’t these fears that haunt you or bring you humiliation. No. Shame and unease arrive when you do something wrong while being aware of its wrongness. Shame and unease are the shadows on my face after the heat has left and my feet are cold.
But before that shame and unease, there lies a winding, blinding undergrowth full of velvet petals and thorns that I walk through naked, knowing that the bliss is fleeting and the bleeding, lasting. She is not Ginny. She is not Ginny. She isn’t. The freckles splattered over the nose are an illusion, crafted by the magic of an expert who has never heard her laugh. She is not Ginny. Her arms, though wiry and quick, probably never held a Quaffle. She is not Ginny. Those lips never kissed Harry’s. She is not Ginny.
She isn’t, and yet, I cannot help feel safe under her gaze.
I am bound to the bed, dressed as a Hogwarts student, and she is in her Harpies uniform, as she is in every performance. I want to hate her, inflict on her the sense of defeat and helplessness consuming me. I want to shake her and yell at her to take a good look at herself. You are not bloody Ginny, I want to scream. Stop acting like you are. Stop this madness. Stop this sham.
I don’t. The light falls directly upon her, making the redness of her hair flare up in rebellion against the dimness of the room. It burns, reminding me of Ginny whenever she’s under the sun. And then she’s taking her shirt off, and the hardness of the belly, the smallness of the breasts - they are Ginny. The smile on her lips, the way she throws her head back - they are Ginny. I’ve seen Ginny with Harry far too many times to not think that when she pulls off my skirt, wraps my legs around her and plants kisses upon my pants, the look of adoration on her face is Ginny.
“Release me,” I tell her.
“Say please.”
And the voice is always Ginny.
“Please.” Her nails are grazing across my thighs. “Please.”
“What will you do if I release you?” she asks, licking my knee.
“I’ll - I’ll fuck you.”
“Promise?”
“Yes. Yes, I promise.”
The cuffs fall off, and I’m free. I spring up and push her down, kissing her on the lips furiously, hungrily. We roll on the bed - it’s almost like a fight - to be the one on top. Sliding off, I order her to come for me, walking backwards until I can feel the cold, solid glass against my back. But before I can sneak a glance, she grabs my hair and forces me to look at her.
Then, I forget about the mirror.
+++
I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be here. It could blow my cover and destroy the whole operation. But I had to, for the sake of my sanity. I have to see Ginny outside of that room and remind myself that the real Ginny is a completely different person.
I’m in a café across the Harpies’ office, waiting for her to come out with her team. She once told me she hated the food at the canteen, so she usually has her lunch in this place. Sure enough, a few minutes after one, they walk out the front door, a noisy, carefree bunch, and cross the street. I readjust the hood of my sweater and push the sunglasses further up my nose. As they file past me, I watch her. She is grinning.
They fill up the long table behind me, shouting and yelling about being hungry enough to eat a dragon, moaning about being harassed by their coach. I try not to feel jealous of their uncomplicated life. I bite into my sandwich and chew it as though I’m eating as a punishment; I don’t feel remotely hungry.
“Hey, Weasley! Here’s another strand of your bloody hair.”
“Oh no!” Ginny groans. “I swear I’m going to go bald at this rate.”
“Stressing out, are you?”
“Nah,” Ginny replies. “I’ll have to get it cut.”
“That’s not gonna stop it. You should talk to a Healer. I mean, it’s getting really bad, isn’t it?”
So, Ginny’s been losing hair. I wonder why.
“Here are your orders, girls!” chirps the waitress. “Now, don’t move. My wand is trying to handle twelve different glasses. We don’t want accidents.”
“Chocolate shake again?” Ginny moans. “Wilma, I would like to try something different now.”
“Oh, honey, you love it, don’t you?”
“Well, I do. But I’d like to try something else next time. Like ... Oh damn, you’re right. I do love this bloody shake.”
There is a round of laughter. It makes me smile.
“Anything else?” asks the waitress.
“No, thanks. Please get me the bill.”
“All right.”
I come out of the café, my faith restored. The Ginny I meet every day is not my friend, just an imposter. It doesn’t matter that I think about her all the time. She’s a mirage. She’ll be gone when I get too close. The real Ginny won’t, even though she’ll never kiss me or look at me the way I want her to. That knowledge makes me both happy and devastated.
When I turn around the corner, I almost scream. Slapping my hand across my mouth, I backtrack hurriedly and head straight for the nearest alley. Dmitri is here.
+++
Today is my third Friday as Hermione; I only have a week remaining with her. I’m adamant I won’t continue working after that. If I have to do something about this case, it needs to be done before the next month starts. Selene Rhodes is my sole chance.
Not once have I met any of the other employees or seen any of the clients. Jacques doesn’t even mention the other stylists. To be honest, I’m not sure if there are other stylists. The lounge is always empty whenever I’m in the area. Pansy must have had some sort of magic in place that has made this arrangement possible, but Rhodes is the receptionist. She must be privy to such information. If the two of us work together, we might be able to think of a way to use what we know in order to expose Pansy’s business.
I must talk to Rhodes in private. The fact that she has been taking Calming Draughts and crying in the toilets hints she is traumatised. If I can convince her that we could escape this, she might agree to help me. With this newfound hope, I enter Glamour Escort Services. The buoyancy is punctured when I see a different girl at Rhodes’ desk.
“Where’s Selene?” I ask her.
“She’s not well. She’s taken a few days off.”
“Any idea what’s wrong with her?”
“No.”
On the way to my room, I signal Boot through the coin.
+++
“Yes, Donnie?”
“I need Selene Rhodes’ address.”
“Breakthrough?”
“We’ll see.”
“Just give me a few moments.”
+++
The area where Selene Rhodes lives is much nicer than mine. Pansy must pay her a larger salary. There are quite a few Muggles out, so I draw my coat over me to hide the wand. Rhodes has put up a few wards around the place. I break them quite easily.
I knock on the door a fair few times before it opens. Selene has a hood drawn over her face. She raises it by a few inches, finds me at her doorstep and blinks several times.
“They said you were-”
She grabs my arm and draws me inside. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
It’s only when we’re in the living room that she lowers her hood. She looks awful. Half of her hair is gone, and what remains on her scalp is a mixture of white and blonde. “Shit! It’s got much worse.”
“Of course it has! I never stopped taking it, did I?”
“Selene, I-”
“Why are you here?” she hisses at me. “Are you here to laugh at me?”
“I’m here to help.”
She shakes her head, more in disbelief than disappointment. “I am beyond help now. I’m done.”
I reach for her hand but she withdraws it under the sleeve. Then, throwing herself on the sofa, she immediately breaks down. Sighing, I join her, gingerly putting my arm around her shoulder.
“We can do something about it,” I say. “I wanted to see you anyway, so we could work together and get out of this mess. Get Parkinson arrested. Have the place shut down.”
“That’s not going to make everything okay for me, you know,” she says. “I killed my father.”
Although shocked, I don’t say anything and let her speak.
“We didn’t know what we were getting into when we took the original oath of employment. None of us. Their business was legitimate then, and Dad had worked for Padraig Parkinson for years before Glamour started. Pansy knew I had a boyfriend. She approached me about this thing I could do. I didn’t tell my dad about this, but he eventually found out. He tried to stop me, but I didn’t listen to him. It was easy money. Both Carl and I were basically getting paid for shagging, even though we did it as other people. It was wrong, but we were both stupid, you know.”
She stops for a while, gazing into the distance. In an effort to encourage her, I rest my hand over hers. They’re covered in blisters, but I don’t recoil. She doesn’t shake it off.
“Dad didn’t like it. He thought it was illegal, and it was. He found some photographs of me that weren’t really ... decent. We had a big row over that. Though I’d taken them back, he had managed to steal them back and donated them to the Ministry in his will, effectively breaking the Vow.”
“You didn’t kill him,” I assure her. “There was no way you could have broken the contract or turned against Pansy. Your father made his own choice.”
“I was greedy,” she mutters. “But I gave up the ... the sex.”
“Where’s Carl?”
“He left me after the fiasco of my father’s death and the subsequent inquiry. He’s still working there. We pretend we don’t know each other personally. I just ...” She pauses, smiling sadly. “I just wish Dad had found the third photograph and given them to the Ministry as well.”
“You mean there were more than two?”
“Yes. The third one was charmed to show the role I could play.” She turns towards me at last. “You’re with the Ministry, aren’t you?”
I nod.
“D’you know Hermione Granger?” she asks me.
I nod again.
“You could pass for twins.”
This time, it’s my turn to smile in bitterness. “Do you have access to the assignments?”
“No. But I do have a list of the employees’ names and the partners they have worked with, as well as their resumés and employment records, which include the mandatory photographs of themselves in disguise. I left duplicates in the office. They will self-destruct after a week, by which time, the place will have been shut down.”
“You said mandatory photographs. I wasn’t required to provide mine.”
She shrugs. “Maybe Parkinson reckoned you could pass off as Hermione Granger one day. The thing is, no amount of magical charm can make you look like somebody else completely, unless you’re using a Polyjuice Potion. There must be a few slight differences. But it works for the perverts behind the mirror. Mine was -”
“Stop!” I yell. “You can’t give me particulars. You’ll break the Vow.”
This time, her smile is joyous. “I don’t care,” she says, gripping my hand. “I want to be free.”
“So - so, you are going to -?”
“Give all the evidence I can to the Ministry,” she replies. “And ... die. Peacefully. Without guilt.”
“But-”
Pointing a finger at her head, she tells me, “I can’t do this anymore. This is not how anybody’s supposed to live.” She picks up her wand and conjures a huge folder out of the air. “Can I trust you with this?”
“What is it?”
“The evidence. You can end it all by giving this to your people. I was planning to hand it over myself, but in a way, this is better. I can go quietly before the Ministry people barge into my house to interrogate me.” She opens the folder, takes out a sheet of parchment and seals the rest with a charm. “You’ll be fine as long as you don’t view the contents. Technically, you’re giving away a few papers I asked you to.”
“Even if you’ve told me what they are?”
“How do you know I’m not lying?” she asks.
“Fair point.”
“This,” she offers me the single sheet, “is for you.”
I don’t take it yet. “What is it?”
“It’s your record. It has the name of your partner on it. I reckoned you might want to keep that a secret.”
Overcome with gratitude, I hug her. She embraces me back tightly, and we don’t let go for a while. I think I know why.
“Thanks,” I whisper.
“No, thank you.”
Afterwards, when I’m about to Disapparate, I ask her one last question. “How did you manage to steal this folder out of Glamour?”
She grins. “I threw them out the toilet ventilator.”
+++
I’m in the kitchen, the folder on one side of the table, a cup of tea on the other, and my record in the middle. It has been wiped clean by Selene; I can only retrieve the writing with a revealing charm.
Tomorrow, I will meet Boot and give her the evidence.
Tonight, I will learn who has been posing as Ginny.
Part of me doesn’t want to find out. How would I feel if it turns out to be some random girl? What if it’s somebody I recognise? Although I’ve been aware of the undisputed fact that every single thing that happened in the chamber is a sham, I’ve also been growing accustomed to it as a part of my life. In a way, it brought a semblance of constancy. I was with Ginny - or I was with a girl who looked and sounded exactly like her. Suddenly remembering Selene’s words, I amend myself.
There can be no one exactly like Ginny.
Every rule, however, has an exception. Pansy managed to find somebody, just as she managed to find me for Hermione. There is a girl somewhere who can don Ginny Weasley’s looks, voice, laughter and attitude and make them her own.
Perhaps, it’s not such a bad idea finding out who she is. That would shatter the delusion I keep slipping into so often.
To gather some courage, I pick up the mug of tea and sip some. Then, pointing my wand at the parchment, I utter, “Revelio!” Black ink gradually appears on the blank white. I can feel my stomach clenching as I lean for a closer look.
The silence in the flat is broken as the mug crashes onto the floor. There is only one name next to mine in every single performance.
Ginevra W.
+++
It’s Saturday morning. I don’t have to open the papers to see what’s on the front page. In fact, not seeing Selene’s picture might keep me hiding for some time. I’ve already dropped the coin in a glass of water so I can ignore Boot.
I want answers to several questions and I am not about to emerge before I get them. Why would Ginny do this? How could she? Is this what she’s been losing her hair over? Does she need the money that badly? Or is she doing this because she enjoys herself? How long has she been working here? Is she okay about shagging a Hermione look-alike? Does she enjoy it? Why hasn’t she tried to contact me?
But I am not me.
Picking up my wand, I Apparate into my other flat, the one where I should be living. It’s clean and tidy due to the numerous charms and wards I put up. I didn’t stop owl post, though. There is no letter for me. And then I remember I’m not supposed to be here. Hermione Granger is on a bloody mission to Budapest. Why should Ginny send letters here? Cursing loudly, I return to Cabros’ living room.
I have to see Ginny. I cannot give the papers to Boot before I speak to her and ask her why. I break her wards and Apparate right into her bedroom, but her place is empty. Maybe she’s at the Burrow. I can’t risk going there yet.
Before I can Disapparate, I can hear the noise of two resounding cracks coming from the living room. It’s Ginny. She’s giggling. And the other voice is that of a man.
“Why don’t you stay with me?” she asks him.
I Disillusion myself and quietly leave, deliberately not looking at them kissing on the sofa. When I return to my own place, I notice that the glass where I put the fake Galleon in is shaking violently. The coin has overheated, causing the water to boil.
+++
“Where the hell have you been?” This time, Boot’s truly not impressed. “Did you read the sodding Prophet yesterday?”
“I did. Selene’s dead.”
“You wanted her address. Did you go to see her?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“She shooed me away.”
“And that’s the truth, is it? Do you take me for an idiot?”
“No,” I say, suddenly desperate. “One week, just one week, Boot. You’ll have everything.”
“One week. That’s all you’re getting before I drag your arse back here and force-feed you Veritaserum.”
+++
Jacques is fiddling with a wedding dress when I walk into my room. “Morning, Donnie,” he wishes me cheerily. Then, he gasps. “But you are already Hermione Granger.”
“I am,” I tell him. I didn’t come as Donnita Cabros today. “You can leave it all to me today.”
“Ah.”
I conjure up a full-length mirror, ignoring his protests, and remove all my clothes till I’m naked. “Give me the dress,” I order him. He looks almost scared as he passes on the long, white gown. I put it on and get ready.
“You’re early,” he tries to say, but I’ve already left. I rip the satin belt off along the way, then standing next to the door, wait. Already, I can hear her footsteps growing louder. She’s early, too. As soon as she enters, I grab her from behind.
“Sssshhh. It’s me. Hermione.” She stops struggling and doesn’t protest as I bind her hands with the ribbon. “Hello, Ginny.”
“Hi,” she says. There is no hint of alarm in her voice. She doesn’t react when I pull out my wand and run the tip along the middle of her Quidditch shirt. The fabric splits, revealing her breasts and erect nipples.
“You like this?” I ask, cupping her breasts.
“Yes.”
“I am sick of your Quidditch look, Ginny.”
“Then get rid of it.”
“Oh, I will,” I tell her coolly, removing the rest of her clothes with my wand. “With pleasure.”
+++
If I hated her yesterday, I love her today. I thought that I resented her for having power over me, but now, our naked bodies entwined, our chests pressed together, and our tongues exploring each other’s mouth, I realise that conclusion was wrong. I wanted Ginny to feel a little of what I’ve been going through, to be as confused as I have been, but it’s almost as though she knew it was me all along.
The eyes. I think that’s where the truth is. Her warm brown eyes. We may not be together outside of this room, but here, it doesn’t matter. I don’t even give a damn for the voyeur watching us on the other side anymore.
“What if we just fall asleep here?” I ask her, spent.
She nuzzles into my neck and says, “Then we sleep.”
I laugh and close my eyes, but when I wake up, she’s gone.
Later, when I reach home, I Summon her papers from the folder and, without looking at them, burn them.
+++
Time has a habit of changing our lives, our thoughts, our priorities; the things that were important to us then are often not what are important to us now. We’re remoulded and reshaped, our malleable selves determined by new desires, new goals, new feelings to be passionate about. That’s what makes us human.
I am Hermione Granger. I’m twenty-two years old. I have a new reason to live, and it’s Ginny Weasley.
There’s no one else for me now. With Ginny, I don’t have to make a fresh start or apologise for my faults. She has known me, always. We’ve been friends for years. We’ve been through the same horrors. We’ve held hands in desperate times. With Ginny, I won’t have to let go of the past that made me who I am. With her, I am safe. With her, I am happy.
“I wish I’d known all along,” I tell her. She’s lying with her head resting upon my chest, hair spread all over me. It smells of roses, as it always does.
“Known what?”
“That it was you.”
There is no answer.
“But you knew it was me, didn’t you?” I ask to confirm.
“Yes,” she murmurs. “You can’t escape yourself, Hermione. You’re always you.”
She laughs softly and draws patterns on my skin with her fingers. We’ve descended into silence. I decide to change the topic.
“Is your hair okay now?”
“Hmm?”
“Weren’t you having trouble with hair loss?”
She sits up instantly. “How do you know?”
“I - I was in that café where you go with your friends, and I-”
“Hermione.” She puts a hand over my mouth. “Don’t ever do that again. It’s dangerous.”
“But we already-”
“Just stay away from me,” she says earnestly. “Trust me. It’s safer that way.”
+++
Ginny doesn’t know yet about what is going to happen over the weekend; Glamour Escort Services will be shut down and its owners, arrested. I haven’t confided in her because I’m scared. I don’t know how she’ll react since I’m not privy to her motives for being here in the first place. What if she wants this job? What if it is a form of escape for her? Do I even know what she’s been going through? I’ve been so shut in by my own losses that I shut out everybody else. Her relationship with Harry is over. Did I ever try to talk to her about it?
There’s also an undeniably selfish part of me that doesn’t want this precarious balance to shift. If I can’t have Ginny outside of this, then I want to have her now.
But I have to give up the papers. I have to finish this. It’s the right thing to do. Ginny must be told now, before she wakes up on Saturday morning and finds out through the Prophet. She doesn’t deserve the shock, nor the betrayal from me.
“It ends tomorrow,” I start, pulling on my clothes.
“You never know.”
“Ginny, there’s something I have to tell you, but we can’t talk here. I need to see you tonight.”
She throws up her arms in frustration. “Hermione, how many times do I have to tell you-”
“This is important.” I look at her seriously. “I’ll meet you at your place.”
+++
I no longer live as Donnita; I use the identity only while getting in and out Glamour’s premises. At home, the contacts and nose are discarded. The Engorgement Charms go. Only the straight black hair remains, but that is quickly fixed with a few charms. I don’t miss Donnita a single bit.
It’s six o’clock now. I’m kneading my hands in an effort to calm down. You’re doing the right thing, I keep reminding myself. She’ll understand. Half an hour later, I pick up my wand - my original wand - to Apparate, but I can’t move. Anti-Apparation wards must have been set up at her place. I Apparate into the street outside her house instead, using a corner alley, and walk up to the house and ring the buzzer.
“Who’s this?” Her voice is slightly nervous.
“Hermione.”
“Oh!” She sounds surprised. I can’t work out what that means for us. “Well, come on up.” A happier tone. That gives me some relief.
“Hey!”
She looks delighted to see me and pulls me into a hug. “When did you get back from Budapest?” she asks excitedly.
I roll my eyes as I walk inside. “Anti-Apparation wards?” I inquire.
“Oh, that! I think somebody broke in the other day. All my wards were down. Just wanted to be careful.” She leads us to the sofa, flinging herself on it. “What’s new with you? Or is it all top-secret stuff?”
“Stop it,” I mutter irritably. “I told you I’d be here.”
“You sent me an owl? I’m sorry. Pig has gone mental. He won’t let an owl near the place. I haven’t got owl post in weeks.”
“No,” I snap. “Ginny, stop this, seriously. There’s something I have to share with you before we see each other again tomorrow.”
“All right, calm down! I don’t know what I’m supposed to have done, but never mind. You can tell me anything you want to.”
“You are really good at this, aren’t you?” I scoff. Anger is getting the better of me.
A frown creases her face. “Hermione,” she says carefully, ”what’s going on?”
“What’s going on?” I say loudly. “Ginny, it’s okay now. You don’t have to pretend any longer. It’s all going to be over soon, so you might want to stop acting like we haven’t been fu-”
“Hello!” Dennis Creevey barges into the room with a stupid grin on his face. “Hermione, haven’t seen you in ages.”
I turn to Ginny, who is staring at me with her mouth hanging open. “How long have you been together?” I demand.
“What the hell is up with you?” she snaps at me.
“Uhm.” Dennis shifts uncomfortably. “I’ll just go to the bathroom.”
“Have you been taking her pictures?” I ask him.
“Well, yeah.”
“And I suppose she’s not wearing anything in them.”
An apologetic smile appears on Dennis’ face, but Ginny’s now getting up. “And why do you have a problem with that? You’re not my bloody mum.”
“I’m not,” I say, preparing to leave. “I’m nothing.”
“Hermione!” she shouts, but I’m already running down the stairs, eager to reach home and have a drink. For tomorrow, I must appeal to the kind of bravery I don’t usually rely upon. But tonight is relentless in its insistence to torture me. Before I can reach the alley, somebody stops me.
“Granger.”
Pansy Parkinson is standing under a tree, immaculately robed in black and enjoying a cigarette. “Didn’t know you lived in these parts,” she says.
“Didn’t know you did.”
She smiles. “I don’t. I came to check up on a friend.”
“You have friends. That’s news.”
“Come on,” she says earnestly. “We’re no longer at Hogwarts.”
“Some things don’t change.”
She lets the cigarette drop and puts it out. “I wouldn’t bet on that,” she says. Then, with a little bow and a smirk, she walks away, leaving me alone in the street.
+++
Today is my last day with Ginny in this chamber, and it is ending with a charade. This thought, though repulsive, gives me strength. I carefully apply make-up on my face and pull my hair into a sleek bun. Then, I select a set of robes I’ve been refusing to put on so far, much to Jacques’ indignation: scarlet and distinctive. An Auror’s uniform. I split it at the thigh.
She’s in the room when I enter, her expression uncertain. Her eyes widen at my ensemble. “That’s not you,” she says.
“I don’t want to be me,” I tell her. “Now, kneel.”
“Hermione -”
“Kneel,” I repeat, pointing my wand at her. “This is just a performance, isn’t it? So, let’s perform. Kneel, Ginny.”
Reluctantly, she obeys me. I walk behind her and pull up her chin gently; the light falls on her face. “How does it feel now?” I ask her when she closes her eyes. “Can’t stand the glare, can you? I couldn’t either. Your hair burnt like a flame every time I was lying on the bed, under your body, under your charm. I was helpless. I was trapped. I was going mad and I didn’t know what to think. Was it the real you? If so, where did that put me?”
I pull her up and shove her into the bed. “But you played it like a professional. You were my lover as long as you got Galleons for it. You were my lover as long as that swine there -” I point a finger at the mirror -“was entertained.”
Apart from the rise and fall of her chest, she barely moves.
“Not today,” I say. “Today, it is my rules, Ginny.”
“What do you want me to do?” she asks at last.
I remove the robes and face the mirror. “You know what to do.”
Then, I switch off. I don’t feel her hands, or her lips, or her tongue, or her finger. I don’t feel any of it; I refuse to. I stand here, vaguely aware of my body swaying as she tries to crack my shell. I don’t move when, with tears running down her face, she kisses me. I don’t react when she pushes me closer to the mirror, and using my wand, clears the screen. It’s only when I notice the empty sofa on the other side that I stir.
“There was nobody,” she says. “It was just us.”
I look at her uncomprehendingly. Even as she picks up my robes and covers me up, I can’t move my jaws.
“Well, it’s about time, anyway,” she says, returning to the bed. She pulls out a wand from underneath the mattress and conjures a glass of wine. “Just a few more seconds.”
Our eyes are locked. Slowly, and to my utmost horror, her brown irises change to green. The freckles disappear, replaced by unblemished milky white skin. The red hair goes darker and darker until it becomes as black as night. The Quidditch robes change to a green silk dress. “Pansy,” I gasp.
“Yes,” she says, finishing off her wine in one go. “It was me.”
I slide to the floor and draw the robes closer around my body. The room has gone much, much colder. “Why?”
“Just wanted to mess with you,” she says. “At first. You can’t trust the mirrors in this place.”
“You ... you saw me,” I manage to say. Things are quickly, heavily falling into place. “When I hexed Selene on my first day.”
“I did. I saw you. Great disguise, but it failed. Your accent may have changed; your voice didn’t.”
“You succeeded. You had her right down to the toes, including the voice.”
Even before Pansy comments, I answer myself. No amount of magical charm can make you look like somebody else completely, unless you’re using a Polyjuice Potion. “There’s something in that chocolate shake,” I say. “You’re bribing the waitress.”
“Controlling her,” she corrects me. “Turns out Galleons can’t buy everything. I have a friend in the Harpies, so I was aware of their routine. Our family stocks Polyjuice Potion. I was able to arrange everything the night before we started.”
“Dmitri. Imperius Curse.” Shaking my head, I say, “All this. Just to get back at me. You could have wiped my memory on the first day. You could have turned me away and carried on with your business. But vengeance is sweeter, isn’t it, Pansy? Though, I haven’t done you any harm except the old enmity from Hogwarts.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, don’t act like you’re above it,” she retorts angrily. “Don’t be such a hypocrite. You were quick to take a jab at me yesterday.”
“And that is supposed to equal what you did to me?”
“No,” she says. “It was never my plan to draw this out longer than necessary. I thought I’d fire you once I’d had my fun.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“Merlin, you’re such a fucking idiot.”
“Oh, for the love of God, don’t tell me you fell in love with-”
“But I did!” she yells, shutting me up. “I fell for you. Do you know what you gave me, Hermione?” I don’t answer. “I haven’t loved anybody decent. None of them showed me what tenderness meant. No one but you. Now, I know what it is like to stay in love with someone who will stick with you.”
“It wasn’t you I was making love to, Pansy,” I remind her.
She gets off the bed and joins me on the floor. “It was,” she says. “Weasley was never here.”
“It’s not the same.”
“Then what are you going to do?”
“Go home,” I say truthfully.
“To -” she raises her wand and pulls a folder out of mid air “-this?”
Although stunned at first, I begin laughing. “Was that planted by you as well?”
“I wish. Selene actually managed to steal them. Thought she wouldn’t break the Vow, but she did go mad in the end. Not surprised she chose life over death. Dmitri retrieved it from your place yesterday while you went to see Weasley.” She Vanishes the folder. “And now, it’s in safer hands.”
“Let me go,” I beg her tiredly at last.
“Come with me instead,” she tells me with a kiss.
+++
She’s not Ginny.
The hands caress me like they always have; the heat of the tongue is very familiar; her mouth tastes the same.
But she’s not Ginny.
A little after midnight, I leave her sleeping peacefully on her bed, and go straight to Grimmauld Place. If Harry’s sleeping, he’ll have to wake up. To my relief, he isn’t. He’s in the kitchen, scrubbing a huge pot.
“Harry.”
He finds me standing there and drops the pan in surprise. “You gave me a shock.”
I run to him and slip my arms under his, breaking down. The tears come so fast and thick that they sting. Harry doesn’t ask any questions; he draws me closer. I cry for a long time; I cry until the weight on my body subsides. He finally makes me sit down on a chair and asks me if I am okay.
“Were you afraid, Harry, when you ... when you went to the Forest?”
“What do you mean?”
“Walking into certain death,” I say. “What is that like?”
“You fought in the war, Hermione. You are no stranger to living on the brink of death.”
“It’s different,” I insist. “There was always a chance I’d come out alive.”
After a heavy sigh, he shrugs. “I was scared.”
“Even though you knew you were dying for the right cause?”
“Even then.”
“Thanks.”
“Why do you ask?” He observes me closely. “What are you thinking of doing?”
“Oh, don’t worry,” I say airily. “I’ve been working on a case and it has been ... daunting. But it’ll be closed tomorrow. Two people involved died. You could almost say they committed suicide.”
“And you’ll be okay?”
I smile. “I’ll be free.”
“That’s good.”
“Harry,” I ask him again, “do you ever want to return to the past?”
He takes a while to respond, fiddling with a goblet. “No,” he says. “It’s tainted now.”
“I think so too. It can’t be the same.” Taking a deep breath, I add, “Ron’s dead.”
+++
Everything’s ready. A signed statement. Phials of memory extracts. My notebook. I put them together in a case and lock it with fifteen different charms that only Boot can break. Then, I leave Donnita Cabros behind and Apparate right into my boss’s garden.
“Hermione,” she greets me. “Well done!”
I give her the case and, without thanking her for the compliment, return to my own flat. I don’t want to meet my parents; Boot will have to take care of that part. I am not brave enough to inform them myself of what I’ve done.
It’s great to be home. Instead of regret, I only feel a great sense of calm. All I have left to do now is sleep - that shouldn’t be a problem. But the bell rings a few minutes after I’ve settled on my bed with a good book. If it’s Pansy, I’ll have to drive her away. If it’s Dmitri, I might kill him. Armed with my wand, I check the peephole.
It’s Ginny.
“Hey, I am completely sorry about last night,” I say breathlessly as soon as I open the door. “Not sure what had got into me. I was hexed in Budapest and I think I imagined you -”
“Can I come in?” she asks.
“It’s kind of late.”
“Can you stop being a cow?”
“Right. Come in.”
“I’ve been looking all over for you,” she begins. “I came here five times today, I checked the Ministry. I even checked with Harry earlier. Where the hell were you?”
“Can’t say. I was working.”
“Hermione,” she says, sighing. “Look, I was terrible last night.”
“I was obnoxious.”
She rolls her eyes. “We can talk now. You can tell me what it was.”
“It’s all right,” I assure her. “I was hexed. I was a little unstable.”
“You sure?” she says sceptically.
“Yeah.”
“Are we okay?”
“Of course we are.”
Grinning, she draws her arms around me. I smell her hair. Menthol. When she kisses my cheek, the ache in me is faint. The spell has wholly broken.
“I’ll see you soon, okay?” she says before I close the door.
“Yeah,” I reply. Then, with a smile, I head for my bed and my book.