1 Thoughts on Virginia, by Harry (by EliCa)
When I started to fancy Ginny at the start of my seventh year, it wasn't a sudden realisation. I knew that she was fun to be with. I knew that she had red hair (but I don't love her for her hair. My best friend has that hair! That would just be too creepy…). I just noticed one day at breakfast, as I slopped scrambled egg down my chin, that I fancied Ginny Weasley.
After that, I didn't really know what to do, so I resolved to do nothing. This decision wasn't helped by the fact that I managed to contract food poisoning. A more poetic mind would have said that I'd caught the 'love bug'. I had no time for such frivolous thoughts, as I was constantly in the company of Eric, my sick bucket. I did recover in time for the Christmas holiday though.
Professor McGonagall had allowed all of Gryffindor to have a Christmas party to celebrate the fact that nobody could go home (Voldemort…again). It promised to be a very dull affair until some highly intelligent person('s boyfriend – Ron) dunked a whole bottle of vodka in the fruit punch, and switched every Butterbeer with Butterbeer Extra!
To be honest, my memories of that night only consist of single-frame images. My first bottle of butterbeer. My second bottle. My third, my fourth, and the odd glass of punch. Then, finally, me kissing Ginny. Our first kiss. A drunken slobber. I'm not sure how drunk she was, but she fell in the lake, dragging me in too I must add, so she can't have been that sober!
Anyhow, the next morning I woke up to the sound of my heart in my head, thudding in both ears very loudly.
Duh-dum. Duh-dum. Duh-dum.
I cracked open my right eye very slowly , as my left eye hurt for some reason so much that I couldn't open it. With my right eye open though, I could see…, nothing. My head was underneath my pillow, and so I lifted it up to where it should have been. The pulsing pain intensified.
Both eyes were now open, and beheld the blurry and evil sight of my dorm in full sunlight. I tried thinking about what awful act Voldemort must have committed to make my head ache as much in the morning. Then I remembered.
The flash images and sounds ran at contorted speeds through my brain, stopping abruptly at the one of me and Ginny kissing. I replayed it over and over again. In fact, I had the image on loop even as I stumbled down the stairs to the common room in my pyjamas (that morning looking striking in a Zippy (from Rainbow) t-shirt, and boxers).
I fell into an armchair in the common room, and I left the sagging cushions pull me into their depths, and I closed my eyes.
That was a mistake! My head started spinning again. I groaned and fell over to the table where a jug of water was always present with a few glasses. I poured myself a glass and started sipping at the liquid gingerly. With a new (safe) drink, I led myself to my armchair.
I looked blearily into the empty fireplace, observing that I was alone in the common room, and that it would be awfully nice to kiss Ginny again…
'Hello' said a voice from next to me that belonged to the object of my ponderings. I looked up, holding onto the glass a little too tightly. I was very glad she looked awful that morning, otherwise I would never have been able to croak out,
'Hiya' as a reply. I needed a sip of water just to recover from that!
'Hangover, Harry?' she asked. 'Stating the obvious' I thought, so I just replied in the affirmative.
'So,' she started, 'last night, what happened?' I admit it. I panicked. All that had kept me going since the tortured moments of waking up, was the wild fantasy that Ginny would now consent to being my girlfriend.
'You don't remember?' I asked as evenly as I could, but she smirked at me anyway.
'I do actually. What are we going to do about it though?' I knew that she was going to be all girly and not be brave enough to broach the subject. So I did.
'I was hoping we could do it again sometime, actually.' She looked at me strangely.
'You mean, as partners, or as drunken pals?' There it was, I thought. On a plate, the chance to get a girlfriend who I actually fancied, unlike a certain disaster the year before. I grabbed the opportunity hungrily.
'Former.'
'Good.' She said simply. There was an awkward pause. I had to do the manly thing again.
'Are we going out then?' I asked, facing her.
'Yes.'
I smiled, very pleased at the outcome. Then I though of Ron and Hermione, and that there was never a second when they weren't shoving their tongues down each other's throats. I studied her, with her hair all frizzed up and make up smudged under her eyes, and then thought about how awful I felt. I just wasn't up to anything.
'Sorry' I said, as a way of putting my thoughts into a condensed form.
'Sorry?' she asked, questioning me.
'I'm not feeling up to anything right now, so the most romantic thing I could do is shake your hand.' She laughed (thank goodness), and shook my proffered hand.
That was it. Ginny and I were now a couple, much to our delight. Ron wasn't too happy about it though. First thing he said to me that morning was,
'What did I tell you lat night Harry?' I almost replied that I had no idea that I even spoke to him last night, but he looked ready to hit me, so I shrugged my shoulders and looked appealingly at Hermione who was lingering in the background. She always neutralises Ron - or makes his mood worse. Always one or the other.
Then one day I proposed to her, and here we are. Mr and Mrs Potter. Ginny said that I needed to write down what I thought about her before we consummated our marriage, so I had to get all of this written quickly.
Hopefully nine months from tonight we'll hear the sound of little broomsticks zooming around. I know Molly would like grandlings, and I have just the names. Vera, Chuck, and Dave. Perfect.
When I started to fancy Ginny at the start of my seventh year, it wasn't a sudden realisation. I knew that she was fun to be with. I knew that she had red hair (but I don't love her for her hair. My best friend has that hair! That would just be too creepy…). I just noticed one day at breakfast, as I slopped scrambled egg down my chin, that I fancied Ginny Weasley.
After that, I didn't really know what to do, so I resolved to do nothing. This decision wasn't helped by the fact that I managed to contract food poisoning. A more poetic mind would have said that I'd caught the 'love bug'. I had no time for such frivolous thoughts, as I was constantly in the company of Eric, my sick bucket. I did recover in time for the Christmas holiday though.
Professor McGonagall had allowed all of Gryffindor to have a Christmas party to celebrate the fact that nobody could go home (Voldemort…again). It promised to be a very dull affair until some highly intelligent person('s boyfriend – Ron) dunked a whole bottle of vodka in the fruit punch, and switched every Butterbeer with Butterbeer Extra!
To be honest, my memories of that night only consist of single-frame images. My first bottle of butterbeer. My second bottle. My third, my fourth, and the odd glass of punch. Then, finally, me kissing Ginny. Our first kiss. A drunken slobber. I'm not sure how drunk she was, but she fell in the lake, dragging me in too I must add, so she can't have been that sober!
Anyhow, the next morning I woke up to the sound of my heart in my head, thudding in both ears very loudly.
Duh-dum. Duh-dum. Duh-dum.
I cracked open my right eye very slowly , as my left eye hurt for some reason so much that I couldn't open it. With my right eye open though, I could see…, nothing. My head was underneath my pillow, and so I lifted it up to where it should have been. The pulsing pain intensified.
Both eyes were now open, and beheld the blurry and evil sight of my dorm in full sunlight. I tried thinking about what awful act Voldemort must have committed to make my head ache as much in the morning. Then I remembered.
The flash images and sounds ran at contorted speeds through my brain, stopping abruptly at the one of me and Ginny kissing. I replayed it over and over again. In fact, I had the image on loop even as I stumbled down the stairs to the common room in my pyjamas (that morning looking striking in a Zippy (from Rainbow) t-shirt, and boxers).
I fell into an armchair in the common room, and I left the sagging cushions pull me into their depths, and I closed my eyes.
That was a mistake! My head started spinning again. I groaned and fell over to the table where a jug of water was always present with a few glasses. I poured myself a glass and started sipping at the liquid gingerly. With a new (safe) drink, I led myself to my armchair.
I looked blearily into the empty fireplace, observing that I was alone in the common room, and that it would be awfully nice to kiss Ginny again…
'Hello' said a voice from next to me that belonged to the object of my ponderings. I looked up, holding onto the glass a little too tightly. I was very glad she looked awful that morning, otherwise I would never have been able to croak out,
'Hiya' as a reply. I needed a sip of water just to recover from that!
'Hangover, Harry?' she asked. 'Stating the obvious' I thought, so I just replied in the affirmative.
'So,' she started, 'last night, what happened?' I admit it. I panicked. All that had kept me going since the tortured moments of waking up, was the wild fantasy that Ginny would now consent to being my girlfriend.
'You don't remember?' I asked as evenly as I could, but she smirked at me anyway.
'I do actually. What are we going to do about it though?' I knew that she was going to be all girly and not be brave enough to broach the subject. So I did.
'I was hoping we could do it again sometime, actually.' She looked at me strangely.
'You mean, as partners, or as drunken pals?' There it was, I thought. On a plate, the chance to get a girlfriend who I actually fancied, unlike a certain disaster the year before. I grabbed the opportunity hungrily.
'Former.'
'Good.' She said simply. There was an awkward pause. I had to do the manly thing again.
'Are we going out then?' I asked, facing her.
'Yes.'
I smiled, very pleased at the outcome. Then I though of Ron and Hermione, and that there was never a second when they weren't shoving their tongues down each other's throats. I studied her, with her hair all frizzed up and make up smudged under her eyes, and then thought about how awful I felt. I just wasn't up to anything.
'Sorry' I said, as a way of putting my thoughts into a condensed form.
'Sorry?' she asked, questioning me.
'I'm not feeling up to anything right now, so the most romantic thing I could do is shake your hand.' She laughed (thank goodness), and shook my proffered hand.
That was it. Ginny and I were now a couple, much to our delight. Ron wasn't too happy about it though. First thing he said to me that morning was,
'What did I tell you lat night Harry?' I almost replied that I had no idea that I even spoke to him last night, but he looked ready to hit me, so I shrugged my shoulders and looked appealingly at Hermione who was lingering in the background. She always neutralises Ron - or makes his mood worse. Always one or the other.
Then one day I proposed to her, and here we are. Mr and Mrs Potter. Ginny said that I needed to write down what I thought about her before we consummated our marriage, so I had to get all of this written quickly.
Hopefully nine months from tonight we'll hear the sound of little broomsticks zooming around. I know Molly would like grandlings, and I have just the names. Vera, Chuck, and Dave. Perfect.