A/N: For The List Challenge at the HPFC Forums. My list of things to include is at the end.
Dean stood in front of the mirror, studying himself. He usually didn't spend too much time looking in mirrors, unless he was drawing a self-portrait. He wasn't surprised to see he had bags under his eyes. Dean hadn't exactly been sleeping well in the few weeks since the break-up.
Things with Ginny had been rocky for a while. But the harder he had tried to fix things, the worse it seemed to get. Ginny pushed him away - wouldn't talk to him, wouldn't listen. Eventually she had broken it off, because he had apparently been trying to help her through the hole to the Common Room.
Dean frowned at his reflection. Sure, he had tried to be gentlemanly. He didn't try to snog her on their first date, he held open doors and helped her through the portrait hole. But they had dated a while, and by the end, he knew she didn't need that. Ginny was fiery and wanted to be independent. The night of the break-up, he hadn't even tried to help her through the portrait hole. It was bloody infuriating, not to mention insulting, that she had chosen such a trivial matter to dump him over.
Tonight, after having won the Quidditch Cup (largely because of Ginny's capture of the snitch), Dean had felt great. He stood with Seamus, sipping butterbeer, as the Gryffindors celebrated. He resolved to go over and talk to Ginny, maybe try to find out why she had treated him the way she had. He wasn't holding hope for getting back together, but he figured he reserved the right to know what had gone wrong with them. (Dean tried to ignore the fact that she was wearing the hair clip he'd given her for Christmas.) He had to wait, though, because she was surrounded by admirers, all complementing the spectacular dive ('On a Comet 260, no less!') that had culminated in the game-winning catch.
Then Harry had arrived.
Dean leaned his head against the mirror, his hands resting on the sink. It had been several hours, but it was all still a bit of a blur.
All he knew is that one moment he was happy, his adrenaline still pumping from the game. The next, Harry and Ginny were snogging in the middle of the Common Room. Then he looked down to see his glass had shattered and his hand was bleeding all over the (thankfully scarlet) carpet.
Dean had sunk onto the couch, Seamus tending to his hand, and tried to quell the urge to go over and punch Harry in the face. Then he had looked up and saw them leaving through the portrait hole, hands clasped and grinning wildly. (Wait, was Potter helping Ginny through the hole? And since when had Dean called him 'Potter'? Had Ginny liked him while she was dating Dean? Is that why she'd broken things off?) He had stormed angrily up to the dormitory, Seamus following anxiously behind him. He didn't go back to the party, and noted sourly that, when Ron and Neville came up for bed, Potter wasn't with them. Dean was much calmer by the time Potter did come back (thankfully, or else he would have wiped the grin right off his face), but not calm enough to sleep. Eventually he threw on his dressing robe and decided to go for a walk.
He ended up in the bathroom, staring contemplatively into the mirror.
He was tall - he had grown since the beginning of the school year, as evidenced by his too-short dressing gown - and relatively fit. He was no McLaggen (not that he wanted to be), but he was definitely more fit than Potter. His face was fine, other than the new bags under his eyes, and his ears didn't stick out like they had when he was younger. He was a pretty nice bloke, as far as he was concerned. He was a good listener, and easy going. He did well in his classes.
'What does Potter have that I don't?' he said aloud.
'He's courageous,' a female voice sighed dreamily.
Dean yelped as Moaning Myrtle appeared behind him in the mirror. He hadn't been expecting an answer.
'Merlin, don't do that!' Dean said, turning to look at the bespectacled ghost. He had run into her (or through, more like) in the bathroom several times before - he had the nasty feeling that she liked to spy as blokes got into the bath.
'Fine, so he's courageous. But You-Know-Who is after him. How is that attractive?' He was a bit ashamed at how whiny he sounded. But he figured Moaning Myrtle, of all people, wouldn't mind.
'Well, girls always go for bad boys and trouble makers,' she said, the dreamy quality back in her voice. 'Not that I mind a thoughtful, artistic boy once in a while...'
Dean tried not to shudder at that.
'So Ginny likes him because he's got a madman after him?' he said. 'That's bloody stupid.'
'Well, there could be other reasons,' Myrtle said. 'He's the Quidditch captain, he won the Triwizard Tournament, he's very good looking naked - '
'MYRTLE!' Dean did not need to hear that. The image of them snogging was all but burned into his mind - he didn't need to be imagining anything else.
'You asked,' she said, laughing. 'Harry is famous,' she added, as if that explained everything.
'No shit, Sherlock,' Dean grumbled, annoyed that Moaning Myrtle was laughing at him, on top of everything.
'Who's Sherlock?'
'Aren't you Muggle-born?' Dean asked. 'He's a detective from a Muggle novel.'
'Sherlock Holmes, you mean? What does he have to do with Harry being famous?'
'Nothing, I meant that - oh never mind.' Dean was suddenly rather tired. 'Look, thanks for your, er, insights. I'm going to bed now.' He opened the bathroom door and looked down the corridor, hoping Filch or Mrs. Norris weren't nearby.
Myrtle followed him all the way back to Gryffindor tower.
'Er, when I said I was going to bed, I meant alone.' Dean told her, when he reached the Fat Lady. The Fat Lady quirked an eyebrow as Myrtle floated off, sobbing quietly.'Quid agis,' Dean said quickly, before the Fat Lady had time to say anything. He sincerely hoped she wouldn't say anything to her friend Violet, or soon the entire school would know he'd been out late at night with Moaning Myrtle.
That unpleasant thought stayed with him until he fell asleep, and he dreamed that he was at a ball, where Ginny and Potter were waltzing around as he tried to dance with Myrtle, who kept floating right through him.
The next morning Dean found himself thinking that he'd much rather go back to not being able to sleep at all than have another dream like that. And he still didn't know what to think about Potter and Ginny.
A/N: The challenge was to use the characters Dean Thomas and Moaning Myrtle, a hair clip, a dressing gown, and the quote: "'No shit, Sherlock.' 'Who's Sherlock?'"