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Disclaimer: Dee, Ria, and the plot are mine. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling. Thank you and goodbye.





I shoved my eggs around my plate moodily as Ria, Hermione, Ron, and Harry stared at me.

"What do you want?" I spat.

"Who died?" Ria asked, wrinkling her nose at my sour attitude. I sneered at her.

"Am I not allowed to have a bad day? Did Lydia say I couldn't have a bad day?" I cried. A little alarm in the back of my head went off. Don't talk about Lydia!

"Shmoo Lida?" Ron asked carefully as he chewed his food. I think he'd accepted his fate that he was forced to eat constantly during mealtime.

"What Ron -ald means is I mean, what Ron -ald. MY GOSH, WHY DO I KEEP CALLING HIM RONALD?" Hermione screamed. She stood up and slammed her fist on the table in frustration.

"AND WHO THE HECK IS LYDIA?!" Ria screamed too, leaping up from her seat.

"SIT DOWN!" Harry roared. Ria and Hermione quieted and obediently sat in their seats.

"Now, Demeter, who is Lydia?" Harry asked me.

"Uhh" I stalled, trying to think. "Lydia... was... my... nanny. My old nanny. She was very strict. I... uh... I still have nightmares... yeah, nightmares. About Lydia," I stammered. Harry gave me a funny look.

"Uh, yeah. Ok. Hermione." He turned to her. "Try calling Ron "Ron." Not "Ronald.""

"Harry, I've been trying for the entire year. But every time I start to say his name, the entire thing just comes out. I feel like I'm his mother," Hermione complained, shuddering.

"Oh, that's bloody sick!" Ron cried, springing away from her.

"What's your problem?!" Ria frowned.

"Bad mental image of my mother and me snogging," Ron shivered.

"Ugh, that's disgusting," I gagged.

"And what's up with you this morning?" Hermione asked. "You keep pushing around your food like you're not hungry. And we all know that you're hungry."

"I was thinking about Lydia," I said, for once telling the truth.

"Oh," Harry said unbelievingly. I bit my lip. Please, believe me, for both our sakes.

"Good morning!" Ginny trilled happily as she sat next to Ron. "Ria, who's your date for the ball?" Ria turned red.

"Dean Thomas," she muttered. Ginny clapped her hands with glee.

"He finally asked you!" she cried.

"What do you mean, he finally asked you?" I asked.

"Ginny's been imagining that we're madly in love," Ria muttered.

"Oh, please, you soooo like him," Ginny scoffed.

"We're just good friends!" Ria insisted.

"How good of friends are they, really?" I asked Ginny wickedly, getting quite into the drama. Ginny grinned.

"At the last ball," Ginny began, "Dean didn't speak to his date the entire time."

"And Ria didn't speak to hers. Who was me," Harry added.

"Dean spent the entire night staring at Ria while she stared at the bow on her shoe. Then, afterwards, when I was going into the Common Room, I caught them with their noses less than an inch apart," Ginny exclaimed.

"He had a smudge on his forehead!" Ria protested. "I was helping him get it off."

"So why didn't you talk to me the entire night?" Harry questioned.

"I liked the bow on my shoe," Ria said smugly.

"AHEM!" Dumbledore cleared his throat, immediately grasping the attention of however many Hogwarts students were sitting in the Great Hall. He's dead, he's dead, he's DEAD! I chanted to myself.

"Because of the ball tonight, all classes have been cancelled," he smiled, his eyes twinkling. Everyone broke out in cheers, except me, of course, since I totally saw it coming. And because Lydia doesn't think that I should attend classes because she isn't creative enough to make a class interesting for her readers. 





Since it doesn't take any human being, magic or muggle, an entire day to prepare for an event (with the exception of a wedding), we sat around the fire in the Common Room and did all sorts of lazy teenage activities. Harry and Ron were playing Wizard's Chess. Hermione was intently reading some book that she's found in the library. Ria was holding two different boxes of Rapunzel's Ravashing Hair Color for Witches.

"Should I do tips or streaks? And in silver or green? Or both? What do you think?" she asked Ginny. As they contemplated styles, I wrote in my journal.

Having a ball on a Wednesday, three days into school, is completely ridiculous. Lydia should have waited for a Saturday night to hold this ball. She could have posted a filler chapter that would have pushed the date to the weekend, or if that was too much to ask, she could at least have had school start on a Wednesday so that three days would put her on Friday.

And what is this business with me being Voldemort's daughter? I have blonde hair. Mistake me if I'm wrong, but Tom Riddle didn't have blonde hair. What bimbo did he hook up with that produced
me?

Oh, please don't let her create an identity issue with my mother. I can't handle any more teen angst. This is getting ridiculous.

"What are you writing about?" Harry asked, peering over my shoulder. I jumped and hastily shut the notebook.

"Oh, nothing," I replied, laughing nervously. He walked around the couch and sat next to me.

"Malfoy didn't hurt you yesterday, did he?" Harry asked quietly. I winced at the memory.

"He took my first kiss," I said sadly, feeling Lydia's autopilot taking over. <i> That wasn't my first kiss! Henry Dellows, first grade! That was my first kiss!</i> Harry's eyes grew angry.

"That jerk, I'll show him-"

"Harry! No!" I dramatically exclaimed. I sound like an idiot.I grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him back down to the couch.

"You'll only get in trouble," I insisted, gagging on the inside at my disgusting display. Harry reluctantly sat down.

"I'm sorry he had to be your first kiss," he said sincerely, looking into my eyes. I shrugged, feeling Lydia's control wearing off. Finally, that was getting embarrassing.

"It's ok, really. And you gave him a very solid punch."

"I just wish I had gotten there earlier."

"Harry, it's not your fault." Harry shook his head.

"Yes, it was. If I hadn't tried to kiss-"

"No. That was..." I paused. No way was I blaming myself for this one. "It was no one's fault. Except Malfoy's."

"Well I guess it's a relief to know that you don't hate me." I raised my eyebrows.

"I wouldn't hate you!" I exclaimed.

"TIME TO GET READY!" Ginny cried, leaping up from her chair. I sighed.





"Let's start with your hair," Ria grinned, stepping towards me. Evidently, even though I can style my hair every morning with my wand, I can't do it for a ball. Or maybe Lydia just didn't think of that.

"I'm thinking we start with you instead, lover girl," I teased.

"Yeah, like you aren't madly in love with your date," Ria retorted. I began to say, "Well I'm not," but I caught myself.

"So what's your point? You've liked him for longer."

"But he's the Boy-Who-Lived! So much for exciting than the Boy Next Door," Ginny insisted.

"Hey!" Hermione and Ria barked.

"Boys Next Door are amazing," Hermione insisted.

"Please tell me you aren't talking about my brother," Ginny gagged.

"Let's just start on Demeter's hair," Hermione said, blushing.

"What are you going to do to it?" I asked at we headed to the bathrooms.

"Dye it rainbow!" Ria exclaimed. Ginny hit her arm.

"Do not touch her hair with that dye of yours. It's perfect the way it is."

"It's blonde," I said stupidly.

"Uh, yeah, we noticed," Ria replied.

"Let's leave it down," Hermione suggested.

"No, put it up," Ginny said.

"Shave it off," insisted Ria.

"Don't you guys need to start getting ready?" I cautiously asked.

"No," they chorused. Go figures. It takes them three hours to prep me but ten minutes to get themselves fixed up. I watched helplessly in the mirror as Ginny piled my long (and getting longer... interesting how that works) blonde hair on top of my head.

"It's perfect!" Ria finally exclaimed, stepping away from my side.

"You look amazing, Demeter," Hermione smiled.

"Harry is going to drop dead at the sight of you," Ginny said.

"I hope not," I laughed nervously.





"Ok. Is everyone ready?" Ginny asked, breathing in deeply.

"We've been ready for ten minutes," I pointed out. Ginny threw me a look.

"Fine. Is everyone ready to go downstairs?" We each took one final glance in the mirror before beginning down the staircase that led to the Common Room.

Why do I feel so nervous?

*Because Harry Freaking Potter might actually have feelings for you.*

Oh my gosh. Lydia gave me the voice.





Harry's jaw dropped as I appeared from the stairway. I surprised myself by shyly smiling at him when I should have been angry about the alternate ego voice that had found its home in my brain.

Oh, tell me you know the voices. They're in every story. Girl meets boy, girl falls in love, girl argues with voices in her head.

"You look amazing," Harry said breathlessly.

"So do you," I smiled. He offered me his arm.

"Shall we?" 





A/N: Thank you for reading! For future chapters, the "Voice" will be notated by stars (*).

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