“Ron, I’m heading out to dinner in a little bit. Are you going to be okay on your own?” Harry asked from the bedroom. Silence. “Ron, if you don’t want me to go I can cancel.” Please don’t ask me to stay. Harry sighed and took one last look in the mirror to make sure everything was right. Perfect, Harry thought to himself. He stepped out of the bedroom and strode down the hall. The lights in the living room were off. Harry moved to turn on the light only to be tripped by a large thing in the middle of the floor. “Ow,” Harry said, getting up from the floor. He reached over and turned on the light. There lay Ron, in a crumpled lump on the floor with a blanket over him.
“Ron?” Harry asked pushing the lump of blanket on the floor. “Ron, you okay?” There was a soft whimper from beneath the navy blue lump. Harry groaned and kneeled down on the floor beside him. “What happened?” There was a soft cry followed by a sudden shift in the blanket. Ron pulled the blanket up and popped his head out. His hair was disheveled and his face was flushed red.
“Her- Her- Her,” Ron started, but stopped and covered his head again. Harry waited a moment as Ron composed himself. He peaked out again, only his nose and mouth visible from beneath the mass of blanket. “She left me,” he sniveled.
“Oh, Ron, I’m so sorry. What happened?” Harry said, settling himself more comfortably with his back against the couch.
“She said it wasn’t working out, and that we needed some time apart,” Ron cried.
“Well, maybe she just needs some space. She’ll come ‘round,” Harry said comfortingly.
“She said that I shouldn’t expect things to go back to the way they were, and that we should just go back to being friends,” Ron whined. “I bet she met someone new!” Ron released a large sob and covered his face again.
“That doesn’t sound like Hermione,” Harry said. “She’s probably just stressed and is looking for some time to herself. I can promise you one thing; she hasn’t dumped you for someone new.”
“Oh Hermione! Is it someone new? It’s that man from the club, I knew it!” Ginny squealed excitedly. “I should probably feel worse for my brother than I do, but he’s probably not too upset about it. No offense,” Ginny said.
“None taken,” Hermione paused. She didn’t really want to admit that she had left Ron for someone new. It seemed wrong to dump him then not a day later be going out on a date with a new man. “I hope he’s not too upset.”
“Oh, he won’t be,” Ginny replied. “So when are you seeing him again, the man from the club?”
“Tonight, actually,” Hermione replied. “Oh no! I am supposed to be meeting him in an hour. I completely lost track of time!” Hermione hurried out of the room. Ginny followed after her into the bedroom. Hermione was riffling through her top drawer; it was only a moment or so before she sighed and pulled out the silver flask Ginny had given to her the first night.
“You haven’t told him who you really are?” Ginny asked leaning against the door frame.
“Of course not,” Hermione said matter-of-factly.
“Why not?” Ginny asked.
“He knows me as Lizzy. If I just suddenly decide to tell him, ‘Hey I’m not who you thought I was, surprise!’ it won’t go over too well,” Hermione replied.
“You have to tell him at some point, especially if you plan on getting serious with him. You can’t be Lizzy for the rest of your life,” Ginny said.
“I know, but I’m not looking for this to be permanent. It’s just a fling,” Hermione said. That’s all it is, just something new and different. It will be over soon, I just need a break from Ron.
“As long as you know what you’re doing,” Ginny said, completely unconvinced by Hermione’s response.
“I do.”
(Harry’s Point of View)
Harry stowed the silver flask inside his coat pocket, making sure he had enough for the whole night. He didn’t want any mistakes on this date; everything had to be perfect. It’s going to be, Harry thought to himself as he saw Lizzy step through the door. The wind had blown her hair to one side, and the soft curls cascaded down her soft shoulders. She was wearing a beautiful, simple black dress, which looked stunning on her. Harry’s breath caught in his throat. She peered around the room, and then she saw him. Her lips curled in a smile that made his heart skip a beat. She hurried across the room. Harry stood up to greet her.
“You look absolutely amazing,” Harry said earnestly. Lizzy blushed.
“Why thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself,” she said playfully. Harry looked down; he tried so hard to make sure his outfit was right. He finally settled on black slacks and a deep red shirt. He had hoped it looked good; he was never one for matching things. Harry pointed to the curved booth they were standing beside. Lizzy slid along the bench and settled herself in just about the middle. Harry sat himself beside her.
Harry paused, he wasn’t sure if he should rush anything. Before he could listen to his brain, his mouth opened. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot, just waiting for tonight so I could see you again.” Harry mentally slapped himself. What if he scared her off? He wasn’t sure he could take losing her, things were different this time. He looked up from the table in embarrassment to see Lizzy smiling at him.
“I’ve been thinking about you too,” she said softly. He leaned towards her; he had wanted to kiss her ever since she left him in the middle of the street, completely dazed.
“Good evening, Madam, Monsieur,” the waiter said loudly. Harry backed away from Lizzy quickly, turning in anger towards the man standing at the end of the table. “My name is Jean, and I am going to be your waiter this evening.” He had a slight French accent that seemed very fake. He was wearing a black shirt with black pants and a white apron tied around his waist. He had short black hair and a twisted mustache that made Harry cringe. “May I get you anything?” he turned to face Lizzy. Harry watched as Lizzy’s face turned crimson as Jean’s eyes drifted from her face downward.
“Jean,” Harry said desperately trying to keep his temper down. Jean turned to face him, his mustache curling with the smirk that now wrinkled his face.
“Yes, Monsieur?” He said with disdain in his voice.
“We would like a bottle of Champagne, s’il vous plait,” Harry said with a fake accent to rival that of Jean’s. Jean shot Harry a death glare before replying.
“Very well,” Jean turned on his heel and left the table.
Lizzy burst out laughing, and Harry smiled, proud of his actions. “That was great!” Lizzy said.
“Thanks,” Harry replied. Jean returned grudgingly with their Champagne and took their orders.
“You know if you make him any madder, we won’t get our orders,” Lizzy said, half joking and half serious.
“I know, but he was checking you out, and I really couldn’t let him,” Harry replied. Lizzy laughed and peered cautiously down at her watch before turning to Harry.
“Excuse me, I’ll be back in just a moment,” she said sliding out of the booth. Harry looked at his watch. Just about time to take some more potion. He looked around the restaurant; everyone seemed involved in their meals and conversation. He slipped the flask out of his jacket pocket; he unscrewed the top and took a quick swig. He shook his head as the thick, purple liquid slid down this throat. I will never get used to that taste, he thought to himself.
“I really didn’t think she was that bad a girl,” Harry heard Jean hiss at him from the end of the table. Damn it, Harry cursed to himself.
“She’s a great girl, and this isn’t want you think,” Harry snapped.
“Sure, they do have programs for people like you, and I’d be more than happy to watch out for her while you fight your addiction,” Jean said with a false niceness.
“You can just go away now,” Harry shot back.
“Testy,” Jean said smirking. “You really should take care of your problem; it is only going to get worse.” Harry’s patience was wearing thin; he wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this.
Lizzy was walking back to the table, looking as beautiful as ever, and Harry wasn’t the only one who noticed. Jean was looking her up and down. Harry couldn’t take it any longer. He jumped up from the table. Jean, anticipating Harry's next move, punched him square in the nose. Harry stummbled backward. It took a moment for him to regain his footing but once he had, he mustered up all the strength he could and returned the blow. Harry couldn’t have planned it any better: Jean stumbled backward into a passing cart of food, and fell over it. His feet smashed into a small table nearby, crashing clear through the wood, and knocking over the candles that had been lit for ambiance. They crashed to the floor lighting, the thick drapes.
“I have never seen fire spread that quickly,” Lizzy said. Harry slammed his face into his hands. Everything had gone wrong. Harry groaned. “Let me see your hand, Will.” Harry held out his hand. “You did a number on yourself. I’m not sure who got it worse, you or Jean.” Harry looked over at the ambulance where Jean was sitting, a rather large bruise forming, with a cut in the center. “I think we’re allowed to leave now,” Lizzy said rising from the ground, offering Harry her hand. He took it and stood up.
“I’m so sorry, Lizzy,” Harry said sadly.
“What for?” Lizzy asked.
“I ruined the whole night,” Harry said dejectedly, turning away. Lizzy cupped the side of his face and turned him to face her.
“This was one of the most interesting, and amusing nights of my life. I won’t ever forget it. I had a great time, and the only bad part of the night is that it is about to end,” Lizzy said sweetly. Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She actually had a good time!
“I don’t want it to end either,” Harry replied.
“We could go back to my apartment and talk?” Lizzy offered.
“I would enjoy that,” Harry replied. He took her hand in his and the turned towards her apartment. Harry wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but he knew that as long as he was with her it would be good.
Authors note: S'il vous plait, means "if you please" or basically "please".