The three other boys exchanged glances again, annoying Ron exponentially.

   "What? What is it now?" he questioned.

   George's smug smirk was infuriating. "Well, maybe you don't fancy her, but you still have to do something about her fancying you."

   Ron sighed in frustration. "She doesn't fancy me, alright?"

   "Who doesn't fancy you?" asked Ginny, sitting down at the table. She smiled innocently over at Ron.

   "Oh, Jazz doesn't fancy him," Fred replied matter-of-factly.

   Ginny said nothing, but wouldn't look at Ron.

   "What, now you're in on it, too? What's the conspiracy? Jazz doesn't fancy me!" Ron insisted. "Right, Harry?"

   Harry grinned, but said nothing.

   "Ginny?"

   Ginny shook her head, keeping her mouth clamped shut.

   "Hermione?"

   "Of course not, Ron," she replied sarcastically. "That's exactly what all this hinting has been for. To mislead you, because she doesn't fancy you at all."

   Ron seemed confused. "What hinting?"

   Ginny finally sighed. "Two minutes ago, Ron. I assume you were here."

   "Hermione did that for Harry and me once," Ron pointed out.

   "Yes, because you saved my life," Hermione corrected. "She just did that to benefit you, without expecting something back."

   "She knows I owe her something. And I will return the favour, somehow. Until then- Sugar Quills- the cherry kind- her favourite. Least I can do, but…"

   Fred shook his head and draped an arm around Ron's shoulders. "Ah, young Weasley, you have much to learn. If you do that, she'll just think you fancy her back."

   Ginny nodded in agreement. "Buying a girl her favourite candy is never a good sign."

   Harry smiled slightly. "Virginia here, of course, is much learned in the ways. Colin got her Fizzing Whizbees for her birthday."

   Ginny rolled her eyes. "Yeah, and you bought me an expensive blue velvet cloak saying it would match my eyes."

   Harry shrugged. "It's the exact colour of your eyes. It does match them."

   "Precisely," Ginny replied smugly, bringing a look of intense confusion to Harry. The twins grinned.

   "So what do you expect me to do?" Ron asked finally.

   "Well, since you don't fancy her, you have to confront her. Just give her the old 'Hey, do you fancy me?' and the 'Sorry, I'm a bit of a free spirit' and that's all you need do," George stated confidently.

   "Don't mind if she gets all weepy on you. It's a female thing. They get attached," Fred noted. Ginny threw a crumpled scrap of parchment at him and Hermione bounced a quill off his head.

   "She'll be heartbroken to lose her wittle Ronnie-kins, but she'll move on, somehow," Fred said dramatically.

   "We'll be there in the time of need to help her," George agreed, wholeheartedly adopting the act.

   Ron picked up a random thing to throw at Fred and George and found he was holding a pen- a Muggle way of writing if there ever was one. It was purple, metallic and undoubtedly belonged to Jazz.

   He started to study it.

   "So if you're sure you don't fancy her, you better get to it."

   "Or else we might have to tell her, Gred."

   "Well, it's our responsibility as males, keeping those attractive females out on the market…"

   Ron's head snapped up, and his eyes were dangerous for a moment. "You think she's attractive?"

   Fred raised an eyebrow. "You don't?"

   Ron's ears were now a nice magenta hue. "Well, that is- it's not the point. You guys think that she is?"

   Fred and George exchanged glances and nodded vehemently. George adopted a thoughtful look.

   "You know, if she has such a weakness for Weasley men…"

   Ron glared at him. "You wouldn't dare."

   "Well, it's not like it's the girl you fancy, or anything."

   "She's my best friend!" Ron protested.

   "That doesn't give you ownership, you know," Fred pointed out. "You couldn't do a thing if he asked Hermione out."

   "I should hope not," Hermione chimed in.

   George smiled suggestively at her, but she didn't notice, still lost in the pages of her book.

   "George, you can't ask her out," Ron said firmly.

   George adopted his Cheshire cat grin. "And why not?"

   "Because I need to confront her first, you know. Get her properly over me," Ron replied, sounding calm and logical. He was anything but that.

   George nodded. "All right, fair enough. You've got until tomorrow."

   "Tomorrow?"

   "Tomorrow," Fred grinned. "After then…"

   "You know, as long as you don't fancy her, because then it would be quite unfair…" George said diplomatically.

   Ron shook his head. "No, no, that's…that's fine. I'll talk to her."

   With matching grins, Fred and George got up from the table and sauntered off out of the Common Room. Ron, too, got up and went up to the boys' dormitories, purple pen still in hand.

   "They're very good," Ginny commented to Harry.

   "The very best," he replied.

   Jazz sat in the broom shed across from Sassy, performing one of the most truly menial tasks of the wizarding world- tending to almost ancient brooms.

   This was only the seventh one, and she still had to trim the twigs. There were a lot more to go between she and Sassy, even when they were going as efficiently as possible to try to get the job done and get out of the place.

   Taking a quick glance at the other girl, Jazz couldn't help but think how very different they were to be here, in the same place, doing the same thing. Sassinak Murray was descended from Scottish royalty and was part of a very prominent wizarding family. She'd been attending a boarding school for a good part of her life until she decided to attend Hogwarts- the same time Jazz had been stranded in London, both of her parents killed by Death Eaters. She hadn't even known she was a witch- she was vacationing, originally from Canada, and she'd been looked over by some fluke of the school system there. It was with amazement that she received a letter from Albus Dumbledore inviting her to stay at Hogwarts and sending regrets of her parents' deaths.

   Sassy had transferred in, taken a basic aptitude test, and fit right in. Jazz had spent almost her whole summer in Hogwarts, trying to get up to the fifth year level so she could join people her age. She was granted admission into the fifth year, but she had to keep taking make-up exams even into the school year.

   But these weren't as much differences as comparisons. Sure, Sassy was a pureblood and Jazz was Muggle-born, Sassy had thousands of Galleons and Jazz lived on her parents' life insurance as well as the generosity of her guardians across the ocean, but the real difference was that Sassy was a Slytherin, and Jazz was a Gryffindor- or else, none of the above things would matter.

   They hadn't really, at the very first time they'd met- in Dumbledore's office, before the feast and the Sorting of the first years. They'd smiled at each other politely while sitting in the chairs, asked each other's names and where they were from and such other things, but then they'd each tried that hat on their head.

   They'd both known enough about the school to know that their houses meant they were to be great rivals, but at first they'd just walked down to the Great Hall and maintained a pleasant air. However, after they went to their house tables that had all changed.

   Jazz made instant friends with Ginny Weasley- and had an instant crush on her older brother, Ron. And shortly after Sassy arrived, she started dating Draco Malfoy.

   Political deadlock. They hadn't exchanged a kind word afterwards.

   Jazz's eighth broom- and it was horribly dirty, full of grass stains from a crash. She almost groaned aloud, but it would've been nearly blasphemy to break the silence in the room.

   Of course, someone like Sassy would never care about that.

   "Worse than the work of servants and I'm stuck with it," she declared, picking up another broom and staring at it with distaste. "And to think I transferred into this school."

   Jazz snorted, but caught herself; kept herself from aiming back some sort of insult. There were still a good few brooms to go, and it would be so much quicker if they weren't strangling each other.

   But Sassy's hearing was sharp enough, and she heard the snort. "What was that about, Weasley?"

   "Weasley?" Jazz replied, dumbfounded.

   Sassy shrugged, and she made even the most casual of movements look graceful. "You're such a hangers-on with them; you might as well be part of the family. The girl's best friend, making doe eyes at the stupid one. Dye your hair red, they obviously don't mind having too many children for themselves to afford anyway."

   Jazz glared back at her. "Ron is not stupid. And it's typically low of you to insult his family."

   "Compared to his comments about Draco's father being a Death Eater? I think not. If he had half the wits of Draco-"

   "He'd have half the brain of a ferret."

   "I hardly think it would worsen his situation."

   Sassy and Jazz glared at each other for a while, when finally Jazz burst out laughing.

   "What's your problem now?" Sassy demanded.

   "Us. Arguing about Ron and Draco, for crying out loud. It's just incredibly stupid, is all. We have no real reasons to hate each other."

   Sassinak cocked a suspicious eyebrow. "Hasn't stopped us before."

   "Not always." Jazz countered. "Remember, the time before we were 'Gryffindor' and 'Slytherin' or 'the Weasley' and 'Draco's girlfriend'? How civil we were? We didn't have any reasons then. What changed?"

   "We barely knew each other." Sassy replied, but her voice was slightly doubtful.

   Jazz shook her head. "Maybe, in the superficial way. I might not know what your favourite colour is, or why you're always cursing random passer-by, or what the brand name is on your cloak. But that's not it. You know it, too- that somehow, when we looked at each other, there was something behind us. Or even ahead of us. Something that encompassed more than petty words and smouldering glares. Maybe just déjà vu. Or maybe there was something else."

   Sass wasn't saying a word, but she wasn't doing her work, either. Her usually level eyes were denying and glanced at some far point on the wall.

   "Don't get mystic on me, or I'll have to call you Trelawney from now on." The pitch was soft, but her voice held a practiced harshness.

   "A much more unsavoury nickname than Weasley, I'm sure, but much less inclined to turn Ron's ears red with embarrassment." Jazz returned humourlessly.

   Sassy shrugged carelessly. "Not my fault he can't keep his composure."

   "Funny you should say so." Jazz replied. "Draco seemed to be rather humbled without the ability to make classless comments."

   "The only thing classless is you and that filth you insist on wallowing in. I don't know what force of nature makes you think we were ever, or could ever, be friends. We are who we are, and we hate each other."

   "Are we- who we are, really? Gryffindor Weasley and Slytherin Malfoy. I had thought we were Jasmine Elliott and Sassinak Murray. But apparently I'm as clueless as classless- because we're defined by other people and of all things, a hat. I thought when I stepped into a world of magic, of wonder, of thousands of different creatures coming together and creating their own world to escape from the harsh realm of Muggles, I thought that world would be a place where we were people, not labels. But just like every day in my past godforsaken life everything is exactly the same."

   Sassy looked witheringly- but also pityingly- at Jazz. "You're not clueless; you just have a lesson to learn. Life doesn't change. From place to place and person to person and no matter what you try, life never changes. It's harsh and cruel and careless and you have to let go of your pipe dreams of rainbows and sunshine and learn to cope with the suffering. Because it never goes away."

   "I know pain," Jazz's tone dulled to a low murmur, a saddened softness. "And I know how it lurks after you, worse than shadows and your deepest fears. And I know that I don't want to do that to people. Hurt them. Hate them. The load gets heavier and harder to hold and we don't need it. Don't have to…"

   Jazz's sigh was utterly hopeless. Sass took a moment to look at her; to really look. Her eyes told the story of a thousand lives- of a girl who was angry and guilty and hurt but knew nothing else but to care. To try. And try. And keep on until there was nothing left.

   She felt so small in that moment. Petty, and cruel, and as harsh as the world she always disdained.

   She said the only words that she could say. "I don't hate you."

   "I know you don't. I don't hate you either. So why do we play these games?"

   "It's the dance. The dance that we all have to step or else we're left guileless on the floor."

   The two girls sat in silence for a long moment. The truth of Sassinak's last statement hung in the air, resonating. The poignant words only brought depression to the room, little else. But for a blink of time, the two were together, guileless on the dance floor. Eventually, though, they had to stand and continue the steps, the loneliness inherent in every dip and twirl.

   "We held a civil conversation," Jazz said, matter-of-factly.

   "Indeed. And how inappropriate," Sassy's haughty tone sounded more automatic than genuine, but it suited. "And it's Sassinak Victoria Murray, I'll have you know."

   Jazz raised an eyebrow in suspicion of this sudden divulging. "And why should I know?"

   "I've always enjoyed the superficial," Sassinak drawled, and a moment later, the sound of twig clipping was in the air.

   Though neither of them would whistle while they worked, they did smile, for what it was worth. And it was worth a lot more than one magical hat.

   It was a very exhausted Jazz that retired to Gryffindor tower that night, to find only one soul left in the Common Room- that soul being Ronald Weasley, dangerously on the verge of a deep sleep. The creaking of the portrait opening and closing, however, awoke him with a start.

   "Oh, Jazz. It's you," he said with relief, sitting up in his chair.

   Jazz nodded, but then had to stifle a huge yawn. She stretched and approached Ron.

   "What're you doing up this late?" she asked with surprise. He didn't seem to have anything with him, and Ron wasn't really the type to stay up late reading or doing homework, anyway.

   Ron shrugged. "Just waiting for you to come back. I wanted to talk to you."

   Jazz sat down, and started to say something, but this time really yawned. "I'm sorry, but could this wait until morning?"

   Ron hesitated. "I don't think so."

   Jazz nodded in reply. "Okay. Speak, then."

   "Well…some friends of mine came around and put some ideas into my head…so…I wanted to ask you something. Er…you wouldn't happen to feel like…that is…you wouldn't think that…you don't fancy me, do you?"

   Jazz blanched and Ron's ears went very red.

   "I know, it's quite ridiculous, I just had to ask…they were going to…well, they were very insistent and…"

   "Well, I don't exactly know what to say…" Jazz said hesitantly.

   "You don't have to say anything…it's very…I didn't think you did, of course, but…"

   Ron got up, flustered, and headed towards the boys' dormitories.

   "Ron?"

   "Yeah?"

   "I never did say anything."

   "It doesn't matter."

   "It would be impolite of me to not answer your question," Jazz insisted.

   "No, I…I don't think I want to hear it, really," Ron still hadn't turned to face her, but he sounded very lost.

   "Well, I think that depends on something," Jazz declared.

   "What?" Ron had turned around now, curious.

   "Well, if you fancy me, of course. Do you?" Jazz asked casually.

   Ron's ears were now looking very peculiar. Jazz tried to think of a name for the exact shade while Ron stood, flabbergasted.

   "I…I don't know what to say…I mean…"

   Jazz waved it off. "That's all right. It's very late, and I think we're both at a loss for words."

   Ron smiled a bit mischievously. "But it would be impolite of me not to answer your question."

   "Then go ahead."

   "I asked first."

   "Then I suppose I'll have to be the rude one."

   "Okay, so we're both rude," Ron decided.

   Jazz smiled. "Goodnight then, Ron. You might be rather brash, but you're still a good mate."

   Ron smiled back. "Same to you, Jazz."

   They both went off to their dormitories without another word.

   The next morning was not a good one for Ron.

   He slept in, which was all right, since it was a weekend- but it meant that he missed breakfast. Luckily, Harry and Hermione came up with something for him- a few blueberry muffins wrapped neatly in napkins and a bagel.

   "Hermione, what're you doing up here?" Ron asked absently as he examined the food. "Smells good."

   Hermione rolled her eyes. "I've been around here enough, you'd think you'd be used to it. Honestly."

   "Thanks for getting me something."

   Harry shrugged. "Wasn't us. Jazz thought of it. Just sent me up with it, is all."

   "Oh. That was nice of her," Ron said appreciatively.

   Hermione snorted. "She completely fancies you. Did you talk to her?"

   Ron nodded between bites of bagel.

   "What did she say?" Harry asked.

   "Well…she started to say she didn't know what to say, and she was quite pale and surprised, and then I went to leave-"

   "Why?" Harry inquired.

   "Well…it was very awkward. And it seemed, really, that she didn't fancy me. But then she insisted she answer my question, to be polite, and I wasn't really sure if I could go through with it all, then it turned into her asking if I fancied her. She's quite tricky," Ron noted thoughtfully.

   "And? What ended up happening?" Hermione questioned.

   Ron shrugged. "We decided we'd both be rude, refuse to answer the questions, and left the Common Room."

   Hermione groaned in frustration and Harry shook his head. At that moment, Fred and George burst in.

   "Couldn't help but overhear-"

   "Being as we sort of 'bugged' Harry-"

   "How'd you do that?" Hermione queried, her interest piqued.

   George waved it off. "A trick for another day, my sweet. The real question is-"

   "Do you fancy her?" Fred asked.

   Ron stared at a muffin nervously. "Er…I can't say that I-"

   "Make sure to be entirely honest now. You know the deal," Fred warned.

   The twins, Harry and Hermione watched him intently.

   "Well, I couldn't well fancy one of my best mates, not to mention Ginny's best friend, and it's not-" Ron started off, but they needed to hear no more.

   "Very well then. I suppose I'll ask her out for the Hogsmeade weekend upcoming," George told Fred.

   "And if that goes well, it's smooth sailing to the Yule Ball."

   Ron almost spat out his muffin. "Yule Ball?"

   "Yes, they announced they're having another one this year- just this morning, in fact," Fred replied.

   Ron couldn't have looked more distressed if his ears had turned plaid.

   "See you later, Ronnie-kins!" George called, and they were gone.

   "Oh, no," Ron sighed after they were well away, and fell back onto his bed.

   "'Oh, no' what?" Hermione prodded.

   "Well…it's just weird, the idea of George romancing Jazz, you know? My friend and my brother."

   Harry and Hermione exchanged looks.

   "Not that I…well, I don't reckon I fancy her," Ron continued hesitantly. The restless feeling deep in the pit of his stomach spoke volumes to the contrary.

   Hermione sighed impatiently. "How do you figure?"

   "Well, she's very pretty…and kind…and smart…and funny…but…"

   "You don't get tingly every time she says your name?" Harry offered.

   "Or twitchy every time you touch accidentally." Hermione suggested.

   Seamus, Dean and Neville walked in, looking rather tired. It seemed like they were going to catch a few winks, but they had noticed the conversation and the occasion of Hermione being in the place, and were naturally curious.

   Dean looked over at Hermione. "Twitchy, huh?"

   "We're talking about things you feel or do when you fancy someone," Hermione informed him.

   "Oh, that's easy," Seamus nodded. "You can't stop thinking of their eyes, and how they see right through you."

   "And you always want to make them laugh," Dean added.

   "And the things other people might not like about them make you smile," Neville put in shyly.

   "Wait a tick, what's the point of this?" Dean asked.

   "Oh, we're trying to find out if Ron fancies Jazz," Hermione answered casually.

   Seamus snorted. "It wasn't obvious?"

   "What wasn't obvious?" Ron asked apprehensively.

   "Well, Harry might completely conk out from late Quidditch practices, but we can hear you mumbling in your sleep," Dean told him.

   "At first we ignored it- it was quiet enough- but after a while we wanted to know what you were saying," Seamus continued.

   Dean grinned. "And you had quite a few things to say about Jazz."

   "Some of them unmentionable in good company," Seamus nodded politely towards Hermione.

   Hermione just smiled and shook her head.

   Ron swallowed. "So…you reckon I fancy her?" he asked nervously.

   "No, of course not, Ron. You're only madly in love with her," Dean replied sarcastically.

   Ron buried his face in his hands. His stomach had made a great leap of joy, a sense of relief at that sentence. But it wasn't over yet.

   "Do you think she might like me back?" he asked hopefully, muffled by his hands.

   The boys shrugged.

   "Don't know," said Seamus. "She doesn't much hang out with us. More, you know, Ginny, and the twins sometimes."

   "Saw her talking with a Slytherin this morning," Neville offered.

   Ron looked up. "A Slytherin?"

   He nodded. "Yeah. The Murray girl. She cursed me just yesterday."

   Harry frowned. "I thought they completely hated each other."

   Ron shrugged. "So did I."

   Hermione shook her head. "It's unimportant. We know she fancies you, Ron."

   "She never told you so, did she?" Ron's mind was doubtful- and the sinking feeling had returned, with much more intensity.

   "No, but look at all she does for you," Hermione pointed out.

   Ron shrugged again. "Yeah, but she's really nice, you know. She got Ginny a smashing birthday gift, even if she did have to do some spare work to get the money for it. And she'll always help anyone with homework, or Fred and George with whichever scheme they're into. And she's usually quite polite and helpful to people, aside from some of the Slytherins. Maybe she just really likes me as a friend, but she doesn't get that…tingle…every time I say her name, you know?"

   The others looked back at Ron hopelessly, not knowing what to say.

   "Well, you'll have to do something, anyway." Hermione said. "Or else George will ask her out."

   Ron buried his face in a pillow. "I know."

   A purple, metallic pen fell to the floor, and Harry picked it up. "Hey, a gel pen. Why was this under your pillow, Ron?"

   Ron's ears turned magenta. Hermione sighed and shook her head.

   "You're hopeless, Ronald Weasley."

   "You're hopeless, Jasmine Elliott," Ginny decreed, sitting on the foot of her best friend's four-poster bed.

   Jazz shrugged, but her shoulders were too tense for it to be casual. "Well, guys like Ron don't come along every day, you know? And…"

   Ginny sent her friend a dubious look.

   "What?"

   "They set you up with Harry. What was wrong with him?"

   Jazz wrinkled her nose. "Well…Harry's nice as a friend, don't get me wrong. But…"

   "He's not Ron."

   "I guess that's about it," Jazz replied sheepishly.

   Ginny rolled her eyes. "Man, have you got it bad. And for my brother? Oh, there are things I could tell you…"

   Jazz was ignoring her though, and pulled out a scrap of parchment from under her pillow with Ron's writing on it.

   "What was that doing under your pillow?" Ginny questioned.

   "You know, I reckon I might fancy him, Ginny."

   Ginny sighed. "You think? Let's just get you out of here, all right? There's nothing to come of you sitting around all day."

   Jazz stood up slowly. "Okay. I guess we could go to the Common Room and…chill. Strike up a conversation with someone."

   Ginny smiled. "That's the spirit. Let's go."

   "Then again, he might be out there and-"

   "We're going now."

   When Ginny finally dragged Jazz out into the Common Room, George met her right on with a charming smile. "Hello, Jazz."

   "Hey G-man. What's going on?"

   George shrugged. "Nothing in particular. Just figured I'd talk to you."

   Jazz smiled. "Sure. I'm willing to hear the latest devious scheme in full, but- can I take it sitting down?"

   "Sounds like a plan."

   Ron burst into the Common Room, frantic eyes scouring the room for Jazz. Hopefully, George had stalled- practiced his lines in the mirror, changed out of his robes, something. He could still be in his dorm, scheming with Fred.

   Or in the Common Room already. Looking sharper than usual, in fact. His usually wild hair was devoid of its rough-and-tumble charm, now slicked back slightly, something George rarely took the time to do, but something that made him look different- and good. He was wearing some of his best Muggle-type clothing- Bill had started the trend of wearing it, and the others had followed him, despite their parents thinking it was a silly habit. He and Jazz smiled at one another amiably as they found some seats, and the feeling of dread in Ron multiplied. He was too late. It was useless, now, to go to her.

   He watched, hopeless, and observed Jazz's smile. It was genuine- she was happy. He didn't want to see her eyes. Those enchanting, mysterious eyes, full of sparkling amusement and joy- not because of him, because of George.

   He wanted to turn back, to just go to bed and sleep this off and try and forget he ever had a chance. But he would dream of those eyes.

   So he stayed, mesmerized by the smile. It lit up something in his heart that he hadn't known about; it made the dreaded feeling in his stomach stir. Something about it made him step, made him walk towards her, despite it all.

   He felt his heart breaking with every footfall.

   They found a couple of chairs together and lounged.

   "So I was thinking-" George began.

   But before he could speak, Ron was sitting next to them, looking lost and depressed. "Hey, George."

   George and Jazz exchanged glances of concern.

   "What's going on?" Jazz asked, her worried eyes cast at Ron, who was slumped in defeat.

   "I don't know," he replied, not looking at her, or George, but his eyes off somewhere in the distance, looking pained. "I don't know what I'm doing."

   George frowned. "Look, I was going to ask-"

   "Don't," Ron interceded, his voice pained. "I need to go."

   With that, he got up and left them, Jazz concerned and George alarmed.

   "Do you have any idea what's happened to him?" Jazz questioned George, her eyes shining in panic.

   "I think I know," George muttered, feeling guilty; more so when Jazz's eyes stayed on him, demanding.

   "Tell me what it is."

   He maintained the silence.

   A frustrated Jazz stalked away into the hallways of the castle, not knowing what to think of what had just transpired.

   "Ron, what are you doing here?"

   Ron looked up into the suspicious visage of Hermione and didn't flinch. "Wanted to sneak in a snog, just like old times," he said humourlessly.

   "Well, despite my love of old times, I think I'll pass. It's a bit of an inopportune time, don't you think?"

   "How so?"

   "You are supposed to be talking to Jazz, aren't you?"

   Ron maintained a stony silence and Hermione sighed heavily. "What happened?"

   "I'm going to lay here for a while, 'Mione. Until I die of starvation or the feeling in my stomach when Jazz comes in here talking about George, her new boyfriend."

   "Ron…"

   "Do you think if I died here, she'd cry for me?"

   "Ron, don't be bloody ridiculous," A new face appeared in Ron's field of view- a fiery-eyed Ginny. "Just talk to George and he'll call it all off."

   "It doesn't matter. She's happy with him. He'll treat her well. I want her to be happy."

   The silence took over the air for a moment, and it didn't look like it would be broken. But Ginny finally took in a breath.

   "You do mean miserable, don't you?"

   "Miserable? Why? She loves George," Ron replied emotionlessly.

   "She does not love George, you git. She and George are just friends," Ginny shot back, gritting her teeth.

   "Not anymore."

   "She'll be miserable with George because she fancies you. You're the one she wants to be with. And she won't be able to get over that, especially with you alone and like this."

   Ron couldn't say anything for a moment, but his stony features softened.

   "Why didn't she tell me?"

   "Why didn't you tell her?"

   "I had my chance and blew it, all right?" Ron sighed. "Look, how are you so sure about this?"

   "She's my best friend, Ron, and she had a hard time concealing that she was falling for my brother."

   "Why didn't you tell me, then?"

   Ginny was becoming ultimately frustrated. "The same reason Harry didn't tell her for you."

   Ron shook his head. "It's nice that you're trying to help here, Gin, but she doesn't need me. It's too late now."

   "Don't be stupid! She's probably around somewhere feeling the exact same way. Do you want to put her through that?"

   Ron was hesitant. "No."

   "Then find her and tell her how you feel, before this goes too far!"

   "I can't-"

   Jazz stormed into the room, looking more frustrated than Ginny. "What is up with the world today?"

   Ginny and Hermione quickly turned to face Jazz, and side-by-side at the foot of the bed, they covered any trace of Ron that hadn't sunk into the comfortable but very giving four-poster that Jazz favoured.

   "George was all done up this morning for no apparent reason, and I could swear he was- flirting with me. You know the way he gets? And then Ron was acting very strange and…sad. He wouldn't even look at me. George knew why but wouldn't tell me. Harry seemed to get the gist but wouldn't say anything. Draco Malfoy even talked to me in the hallway, asking if I was having troubles with 'the Weasley'. Said I looked just enough out of my right mind to be worth talking to. Sassinak, of all people, slipped me a couple of Chocolate Frogs and sent me off to cool down. And I did what she said. What in the bloody hell is going on?"

   Ginny shrugged. "Imperius Curse. How should I know?" She tried to remain casual in the face of the volatile Jazz. "But George was seriously flirting with you?"

   Jazz nodded in return. "It seemed like it to me. I've seen him flirting and…I don't know, maybe I'm just paranoid. It was kind of weird."

   "How so?" Hermione asked, acting intrigued, despite her current knowledge.

   "Well…" Jazz shrugged. "I don't know. George is a friend. I don't exactly have an urge to hop on the good foot and do the bad thing."

   Hermione smiled slightly though Ginny looked seemed confused. "Muggle thing." Jazz explained.

   "And what was up with Ron?" Ginny inquired, leading the conversation for the sake of the brother behind her.

   Jazz chewed her lip and looked off at a far-off point on the ceiling. "I don't know. Something that made him come in here and hide behind you guys. I figure that much."

   "But how did you…?"

   "Parvati saw him coming in, Gin. She told me." Jazz's voice sounded grim. "So…"

   Ginny and Hermione looked back at Ron, who was still lying still, not saying a word. A jolt of relief had surged through him- Jazz didn't want to be more than friends with George, he hadn't even asked her, anyway- but now…he'd felt it, how hard it was being turned away from her. Did he want it to happen again? Should he hold out hope that she could love him? She'd already proved that she could break his heart without a word.

   Jazz was watching him- or more accurately, mostly his feet from where she was standing. She couldn't see his face, the stony, indecisive features.

   "Ron?"

   The quaver in Jazz's voice was unavoidable; he could feel her uncertainty. He couldn't move, not to look at her. To see her eyes and shatter like fragile glass.

   Hermione looked uncertain. "He's…"

   "Not even letting me sulk and cry in my own bed," Jazz leaned against the wall and folded her arms. She then addressed Ron. "Well, that's just too bad, then. If you happen to dislike pathetic sobbing, it's about time to go back to your dormitory, because I'm staying right here."

   "Jazz, what's wrong?" Ginny moved towards her friend with concern, but Jazz averted her eyes from the hand Ginny laid on her shoulder.

   "Well, at just about the time I decided I had to tell him I'd fancied him for- well, since I first saw him- your brother decided he hated me, apparently," Jazz sunk to the floor. "It hurts, you know. When he can't even look at me."

   "Well," started Ginny, looking indecisive, "you know Fred."

   "Yeah, I know Fred- in a nice, platonic way that has nothing to do with how I feel for Ron. But if you'll- I think I'll go. I got the Slytherin card and I figure Harry will want it. Ron's already got five of them."

   "Jazz…" Hermione said hesitantly, but had no words as she turned to go.

   "Six." Ron corrected. "I have six of them. I found a stack of cards under my bed a couple days ago."

   "Oh. Well, that's good," replied Jazz, without turning to face him. "Let go of my arm."

   "No, I don't think I will."

   "Then I'll be stuck here."

   "I'm looking at you."

   "So you are. Good work, then."

   "You want to know what was going on? Why I came up here?"

   "I kind of want you to let go of my arm."

   "I saw you talking with George, and I thought he was asking you out. I saw you smile. You were happy. I thought I was too late to tell you."

   "You're cutting off my circulation, Ron."

   "I fancy you, Jazz."

   At this, Jazz finally turned. "Who does what now?"

   He let go of her arm and held her face in his hands- looking directly into her confused, uncomprehending eyes. "I fancy you now. I've fancied you for more than now. But now you know."

   "You've…what?"

   "I fancy you," Ron said insistently.

   The denial in Jazz's expression remained, as did the confusion in her eyes. "But I fancy you."

   "Funny how it all fits together."

   Without any warning Jazz kissed him, tears streaming unbidden down her cheeks. The kiss was hard and desperate and wild but inside of Ron, something was at ease.

   The deep, ominous feeling was gone. She'd kissed him. She wanted to be with him. She loved him back.

   When their lips parted she stayed close; she held onto him, crying into his shoulder. "I can't believe this. I really, really, can't believe this. This isn't happening. I can't believe this."

   Ron smiled slightly. "I think I caught the gist of that a long time ago."

   Jazz looked up at him and shook her head. "You don't know how much I wanted…I dreamed…and never thought it would be true. Tell me this is real."

   Ron kissed her forehead and held her close, rubbing her back soothingly with his hands. "Why are you crying?"

   "I hurt you. I can't imagine what I did…how I…I'm so sorry, Ron, I never thought-"

   "Don't cry over that. I stepped into that. You didn't know and I hurt you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry a thousand times over." He brushed away a tear from her cheek.

   Jazz smiled at him through the tears. "I can't not cry over you. You're home to me. You make me wake up in the morning. You make me tingle when you say my name. You make me smile because you're so beautiful, Ron. And I know things will change. And I know you'll change. And I don't care if you bleach your hair blond and go around calling yourself Malfoy, you'll still be Ron. And I'll always want to be there with you. Forever, and ever, and…"

   Ron hushed Jazz with a kiss, a gentle, loving kiss that took them both away from the girls' dormitories, from Hogwarts, from the wizarding world of magic and wonder and danger and death; they were just a girl and a boy on the dance floor, smiling at each other, as for a moment…

   The music stops.

*******

Author's Note: If you're an experienced beta-reader and feel you can nitpick this to death without changing the basis of the fic, please do not hesitate to e-mail me at [email protected]. I need you.