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Pansy Parkinson was hosting a Christmas party, and the only way to keep social relevance was to get yourself invited. A few people had automatic invites, of course. Pansy, obviously, her girlfriend (Ginny’s friend. Harmony? Hermione? All of Harmony-Hermione’s close friends were automatically invited, too, which meant Gryffindor wunderkind Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley), her cousin and his boyfriend (the obnoxious hockey players), the whole Slytherin house hockey team was invited, really. Because of the boyfriend, all of Gryffindor’s was too. Unfortunately for Cho, the university is massive and Slytherin isn’t the only hockey team. Slytherin was the only team to get invited by default (if you don’t count Gryffindor’s boyfriend privileges). Cho was on Ravenclaw’s team. Unfair, right?
It wasn’t until the Tuesday before the Friday party that Cho was able to secure herself an invitation. It went a little something like this:
“Hey!” Cho called across the university courtyard. She waved violently, capturing the attention of pretty much everyone, including the ginger-haired firecracker she was trying to talk to. “Ginny! Over here!”
Ginny walked over at a brisk pace, obviously wanting to know what warranted Cho yelling like a house was on fire.
“I was wondering,” Cho began when Ginny had joined her, “if you had a plus one for Pansy’s party this Friday?”
Ginny smiled apologetically at her friend, “sorry, only as a date.”
Cho lit up. “Fake date me? We can stage a breakup afterwards but please Gin, I really need an invite to this.”
It had been hard for Cho recently. Her boyfriend had broken up with her in the kindest, most polite way possible. Ced was a good guy, really, his heart just wasn’t in the right space for her (Hers wasn’t either. And, ironically, both of their hearts had been captured by gingers from the Weasley family. Percy and Cedric started dating a week after he and Cho had called it quits.)
Ginny looked down, eyes studying the ground before she finally sighed, looked up into Cho’s eyes and nodded once.
“Yeah, alright, I’ll ask Pans’ if I can bring you along as my girlfriend.”
Cho smiled sunnily. Girlfriend. She could get used to that.
For the remainder of the week Ginny and Cho hung out daily in either of their dorm rooms, going over the details of their fake relationship and smoothing out whatever questions might pop up in conversation.
Their ‘anniversary’ was the same date as Tuesday, just a month before. They finally realised their feelings when Ginny got frustrated and blurted them out without thinking. They were happy.
-
The night of the party came quickly. Cho was dressed in a pretty blue dress, short with an asymmetrical hemline and spaghetti straps. She paired it with some chunky heels and silver jewellery. Her collarbone length hair was braided back into two artfully messy French braids. She looked hot, if she did say so herself. The night was freezing but she still forewent a jacket and decided to risk the biting breeze on the walk over. It was only five minutes anyway.
The music was thumping. She could hear it from the moment she stepped in the building, let alone the right floor. She pried the door open quietly, slipping into the throng of people with ease. Pansy was in the centre of the first room, dancing and having the time of her life while still keeping a watchful eye on the door. She had paused, about to head over to Cho when Ginny threw her arm around her. Pansy watched them for a moment before nodding and going back to the dance she was trying to teach her girlfriend.
“Hello, lovely fake-girlfriend,” Ginny said, a slight slur already tinging the edges of her voice.
“Hello to you too.”
She turned to look at Ginny, in her short red dress with her fiery ponytail whipping around. She was stunning.
“You’re intoxicating,” Ginny whispered into her ear. “You make me come alive.”
“You’re drunk,” Cho replied, letting herself flush and lean into the arm Ginny still had slung around her.
Ginny pressed a kiss the Cho’s cheek, hitting just shy of her mouth. Cho smiled at her.
“I’m not drunk, I just want you to know that you’re my everything. And I don’t want this to be fake but sometimes feelings are fatal.”
“Sometimes they’re not, though. Sometimes feelings can live and breathe in the light of day. Come tomorrow, darling, we’ll be alive.”