Ginny had cried herself to sleep. It was just her luck. She had been pawning after Harry Potter for nearly five years, and when she got him, she basically chased him away. She had heard him call and waiting hidden at the top of the stairs. She heard him tumble down, and quaked silently but did nothing to help him back up. She couldn't bear to look at him; she knew that if she looked at the sincere hurt in his eyes, she would cry. She knew he meant every word that he said, but that didn't stop the pain, didn't fix their relationship.
She ambled down the stairs, catching a glimpse of brown bushy hair and some flaming red hair next to it. Ever since Ron and Hermione had started going out, the pair had been inseparable. Ginny felt a pang of grief as she remembered teasing them with Harry. The four of them had always doubled dated. Hermione took no notice of Ginny's watery eyes. She grabbed her by the hand and yanked her out of the portrait hole. "Morning Gin," Ron yawned.
She smiled back weakly. Hermione began speaking about her upcoming day, as she always did on the way down to breakfast. Hermione's endless chatter calmed Ginny and she began to relax. Hermione had always been like an older sister to Ginny, and having her date Ron seemed comfortable and natural. As they entered the Great Hall, a pail figure with a mess of untidy jet black hair came racing to them from behind, panting slightly as he tried to catch up. Realizing Harry was seconds away from their little group; Ginny hastily spun around and started a conversation with a random Huffelpuff girl and then headed in the opposite direction. Maybe she could avoid Harry. Forever. Fat chances of that happening, she thought to herself, but hey, it was worth a shot.
For the next three days, Ginny was constantly spinning and twirling, turning to face the wall, and talk to random strangers (Her excuses ranged from, 'I swear you look really familiar', to 'Hey, remember you borrowed my quill last week?' to the desperate 'umm, where is Divination today?' where she would get odd looks from people who wanted to know why a 6th year didn't know her way around yet.) to avoid being seen by Harry. Either Harry truly didn't notice, or he was acting very oblivious, because Ginny could have sworn he saw her at least twice. By Thursday that week, Ginny was exhausted from her little game. She had finally let her guard down as she walked down the cold, dirty, steps to the dungeons. Although most people complained of the dungeons and/ or the potions master Snape, Ginny found both enjoyable. She had a special talent for potions and was always the top of the class. She had also disliked Snape but as time passed she realized the old Professor had a sense of humor, his own dry wit. Ginny had actually passed her potions exams with flying colors and was bumped up to the 7th year class were she was still rapidly becoming the best in the class. The only real competition was Hermione, but she was book smart, and sometimes in Potions you needed to add your own zing. Besides, Hermione was too busy these days helping Ron, and Harry who were constantly messing up.
Crap! Harry! She thought. Her thoughts turned frantic as she entered the room but were at ease as she realized the only other person in the room was Draco Malfoy. Many times the two showed up early but they never really spoke. If there was talking it either her muttering spells under her breath trying to complete the next days assignment, or Malfoy dissing out her family. At first she had flushed and turned bright red. Later when the dissing got worse, she started to fire back some very good comments. After being in his class though, for ½ a year, she simply tuned him out. Ginny was thinking of a thousand excuses to get out of class when she realized that she couldn't think of one for everyday.
Suddenly she had an epiphany. She rushed to Snape's office, casting a spell on her face to make it look as though she had been crying. "Professor? Are you there?" she asked quietly. Snape poked his head out the door. As soon as he saw who it was, he slammed the door in her face. The sound of a few locks being opened sounded through the room, before the door swung open.
"Ah, Miss Weasly. What can I do for you? There is no higher class." He drawled. "I suppose my 7th year students aren't bright enough for you."
She faked a hiccup and shook her head. "That's not it P...P...Professor" she sobbed. "It's the exact opposite. It's to ha harrrd!" she wailed. "I can't keep up!"
He didn't seem to buy it. "Miss Weasly, you are on top in my classroom."
She shook her head again. "No… it's to…too much pressure! Please let me switch back down to my grade!" Snape eyed her water face. She seemed really desperate to switch out, but he knew it wasn't for the reasons she said. He thought for a moment.
"Yes, I suppose you can. I'll see you at 3:15 Miss Weasly." Her face broke out in her amazing contagious smile.
"Thank you sir." She practically skipped away. Something was fishy. And Snape was going to find out what it was.