MSANSOUCI: thank you for the constructive criticism, (*that* is welcome
folks!) I'm probably going to revise that chapter, it's easily my worst,
and I don't want anyone to lose interest in my story now do I?
ELEN: glad you enjoyed the chapter, but there is no need to fear me little one, I only bite if you bite first, and your review was *not* a bite. I will try to have a little more D/G action soon. So feel free to send out constructive criticism. (I don't get pissed *that* easily people!)
TWISTIE: I know, not in a million years. But come on, use your imagination! If nothing else it'll be pretty damn funny watching Severus and Lauren at each other's throats.
HEATHER: Ginny does so well in potions that she moved up to the 6th years class, (but only in potions.) and Ginny is the best in POTIONS, and that's it. (And, yes, I did already explain this.)
I'm so glad that most of you like my story! You have no idea how satisfying it is to get those reviews, whether they are not-really-exactly- nice about my occasional writers block, or gushing about my story, it's all welcome.
TO ALL OF YOU PEOPLE WHO ARE BLOODTHIRSTY FOR ROMANCE: there will be more D/G action in a chapter or two. until then, patience is a virtue people!
On with the show.
~*~ Bad Day ~*~
~*~Lauren Clifford's POV~*~
It took years of training and ingrained stubbornness for me not to roll my eyes heavenward at how the man acted. You'd have thought, that even *if* he nearly had an apoplexy when he heard I would be taking over the job he has been pining after for the past god knows how many years, (or so I have heard, and have reason to believe,) after a month or so, he would have calmed down enough to have a two second civilized conversation. But noooo. that would be far to *nice* for the bloody git! Oh god, I've only been here a month or so and I'm already talking with their fucking swear words ingrained in my every sentence!
No, wait. that sounded much more American.
The fact that I'm muggle born probably doesn't help his idea of my teaching abilities at all either. Oh no, bad sign, he's got that god-awful sneer on his face again. I'll bet he knows just how much it bothers me when he does that. Damn him, I'm going to get a crick in my neck if I have to keep looking up at him like this, I'm only 5'2", and he must be, what? 6'3"?
He turned to the students; " I trust you will refrain from creating larger explosions than usual while I am speaking with Professor Clifford? Continue with your Dreamless Sleep Draughts." He seemed to be directing his first comment to one student in particular, who looked absolutely terrified; he had straw-like blonde hair and a slightly pudgy figure.
It took me a moment to identify him as Neville Longbottom, a magically challenged boy in my 6th year class with the worst memory I have ever seen. It was odd, that a boy who was apparently so abysmal in potions could be so spectacular in Herbology, which were alike in so many ways. (Or, I had heard he was spectacular from Professor Sprout.) He was obviously petrified that he would do something wrong and earn the wrath of the nefarious Potions Master. I had heard of a nasty bit of trouble in Neville's 3rd year with a boggart. it wasn't pretty. And Snape hadn't seemed to like the fact that Neville had decked out the Boggart-Snape into a green dress and a molting, vulture topped witches hat any better than Neville, who had anticipated a great loss of house points for the offence.
Snape had turned back to me; "So, Professor. is there any particular reason you saw fit to interrupt my class?" his voice was absolutely dripping in venom. God. I'd forgotten just what his voice sounded like; he does, after all, only speak to me when absolutely necessary. And, believe me, that isn't often.
There are three things that attract me to a man more than anything else. 1: The way he carries himself. This is one of the reasons I just don't find myself attracted to overly muscular men, they posses absolutely no grace in my experience.
2: They can't be overly attractive. They tend to big tad big headed, because they were never forced to shrink their ego.
And most importantly.
3: His voice. The first two seconds I hear a man speak are the most crucial. that is when it is the most obvious to me. That first moment, that is when I decide. decide whether it's worth it, to go after him or not.
Unfortunately for me, Professor Snape has the most intriguing voice I have ever heard. And before my brain could follow my heart. I was hooked, addicted to the sound. He tends to use his power of speech to ensure the hatred and fear from his students; and seems to have the strange ability to sway a person's very emotions with every syllable he uttered. Grating them slowly and sharply across the nerves, like a dull razor. Or settling like a thick fog, almost comforting, but blinding, so still dangerous. Or even sympathetic, or kind, at times I suppose, if he put his mind to it
This knowledge did absolutely nothing to quench my growing feelings for him. And he, of course, could never find out about how I felt if I wanted to keep my head.
I was in serious trouble.
He suddenly, and loudly, cleared his throat; reminding me of just how long I had been standing there simply staring at the man. Giving my head a little shake, I bent my head back almost as far as it would go, and blinking at the gaunt, sneering face above me. I squared my shoulders and held my shaking hands behind my back, it had been so long that anything, or anyone had intimidated me. the timing was a tad inconvenient. I worked my voice into one of pure innocence, with perhaps just a tad of mocking sarcasm hidden beneath. "I was simply sent by the Headmaster to share a bit of news with you Professor, I have no doubt that you have heard that recently I posted notices about the Dueling Club that will be starting back up? Tomorrow evening, in fact." His scowl was all I had to see to confirm that he had indeed heard, and was about as happy about it as a 5 year-old boy who's mother wouldn't get him a lollipop the size of a bludger. I continued, pretending to be oblivious to his rage, "You *have* heard? Oh good. The Headmaster feels it would be better if there were more than one teacher present. You know. two heads are better than one and all that." Of course, I knew he had no idea what I meant by 'two heads are better than one.' it was a muggle phrase after all, I was simply doing it to piss him off. And by the looks of it, it was working well. His face was passive, but his eyes were spilling over with several different emotions: rage (obviously), confusion at my remark on more than one head, and the beginnings of annoyed understanding. as all the pieces clicked into place.
Using his silence to my advantage, and brushing away thoughts about 'The Calm Before a Storm', I pounced. " So if you would kindly assist me-" he, however, cut me off before I could finish. "No." and he turned away to his desk, and sank gracefully into his chair. just like that. Exactly as if I was one of his more troublesome students, whom he could dismiss with a withering glance. If he thought I was going to give up that easily. he had another thing coming, if he couldn't treat me as an equal, I was just going to have to give him a wake-up call.
Cutting around to the front of his desk, I cleared my throat, causing his quill to pause over the paper he was in the process of grading and glance up through his eyelashes at me. He had clearly expected me to leave immediately, 'wake up Snapey.' he slowly placed his quill out of harms way, and glared at me over steepled fingers. When he spoke. I had never heard a voice sound any more lethal. But that wasn't what was bothering me, when he spoke; he made it sound as if he were speaking to an unusually slow child. "Let me see if I can make this any more clear to you professor, the last time I assisted anyone with a Dueling Club. no, I'm sure you've heard the story so I won't bother to explain; but I see no reason to willingly put myself through that hell again. So if you would please find someone else I believe you would find it a more agreeable situation for both of us."
As he reached to pick up his quill again I grabbed his wrist, once again forcing him to look me in my own flashing eyes. If at all possible, the bastard had made me even more livid, and it was time for him to listen to my little monologue. "I have no problems with you not wanting to help me Professor, I simply came to you first at the Headmasters suggestion. There are numerous people whom I could still ask, and it's your own business if you never wish to hear the words 'Dueling Club' again. However." I leaned forward threateningly, so our noses were six inches apart or so, my voice was a deadly whisper. "I am not one of your students, Severus Snape, so you had better get used to it. You can't frighten me with detention, or loss of house points, and I want to make it clear right now that I won't tolerate you treating me like you can. You and I are equals, like it or not, and if you can't recognize that then I will be down here at every opportunity to remind you of it. So I suggest that you treat me like a human being, and not like a bit of dragon dung clinging to your shoe, if you don't want to end up with a curse or two hanging over your head."
That done, I forced my self to straighten rigidly once again, taking deep soothing breaths I loosened my bruising grip on his wrist slowly, and turned around. to find that the entire class had stopped brewing their potions and was gaping at me with growing respect in their wide eyes, I suppose they didn't get to see Snape being told off very often, or never. I resisted the urge to turn around and grin cheekily at Severus, whose glare I could feel boring a large hole into my back, and gave a small forced smile to the class. Sweeping my robes around myself I headed towards the door, my head scarf blowing behind me listening to Snape snap angrily at the class, and the guilty mumbles and rustling of papers as the class started back up again.
Well, that hadn't gone quite as well as I had hoped. I sighed inwardly; at least he knew exactly who he was dealing with now, he probably only hadn't given me a cutting reply because of the shock, and if he thought I wouldn't come through with that bit about coming down to his classroom at every opportunity, he was going to be sadly mistaken. The man was going to be seeing a lot of me from now on. Just as I reached the door and place my hand on the knob, I felt a tall presence behind me and paused, it could really only be one person. Still I didn't turn around, "Fine." The one word was spoken with such grievance, such humiliation, I almost felt sorry for the poor man.almost. "I will be present at the Dueling Club meeting. After all, someone has to be present who has some knowledge of keeping the students under control."
That was about as close as I was going to get to an admission, my smile didn't even falter. I spun around and grinned up at him, replying in my most polite and singsong voice, "Thank you Professor Snape, I'll inform Professor Dumbledore that you have offered your services." And with that, I walked out, at an infuriatingly leisurely pace, leaving a very perplexed Potions Master behind me.
(I waaas going to end it here, but I decided to be nice and give you a bit more.)
~*~ The Very End of 'History of Magic' Class, the Last Class of the Day ~*~
The stupor that seemed to be embedded in the very stone of the History of Magic classroom, had dulled the edge of Ginny's splitting headache, to a painful, pulsing, throb. 'I am way to young to be getting migraines like this', sighing, she shoved aside the roll of parchment that she had scribbled several dates of goblin rebellions aside. If you looked closely at it, you might notice the way that the flowery writing of notes grew more sloppy and pinched as the class wore on. Fishing a well-used leather covered note pad out of her second-hand book bag, Ginny flipped to a clear page. Checking on either side of her, where Liz was murmuring peacefully in her sleep to her left, and EeEe was drawing Professor Binns profile next to her notes, it was surprisingly accurate, but then, there wasn't much to do if you didn't want to listen to the ghost drone on and on. so you may as well improve your drawing skills.
As neither of them were paying attention to anything beyond their own little worlds at the moment, Ginny was in no position to be discovered. She began her list, and it went something like this:
Difficult Matches: 1.Snape and Proff. Clifford (easily the hardest, I mean, this is Snape we're talking about.) 2.Draco and Me (not *quite* as hard, he did kiss me after all.) 3.Neville and Liz (just because, it's Neville.)
Less Difficult Matches: 1.Ron and Hermione (they both obviously love each other, they just need a push in the right direction.) 2.EeEe and Harry (I know EeEe likes Harry, I'm just not all that sure about feelings from the other end.)
Ginny refolded her notebook with a sudden increase in her headache, just as the bell signaled the end of class, and she hurriedly stuffed it back into her bag. The bell cleared her head of the wool that seemed to be stuffed into her head during class, and she remembered the original reason for her headache, although it had been extremely satisfying to see Snape told off, it had lowered her chances of getting the two professors together to the point where it was near impossible. And it wasn't like she needed it to be any harder than it already was.
EeEe and Liz were waiting impatiently by the door. "C'mon Gin!" EeEe whined, "the last class of the day! I am looking forward to some serious rest and relaxation." There was a sound of disapproval from Liz, and EeEe sighed, " Fine! Right after I do my homework." Liz nodded. Ginny sighed inwardly; there had been a large essay assigned that day, due in two days. It wasn't exactly an uplifting end-of-class.
As they tiredly made their way through the stone archway of the classroom door, they caught the amusing sight of Professor Filius Flitwick, the hem of his robes hiked up around his knees, dodging amused students, as he ran flat out down the hall to come to a screeching halt at Ginny's feet. He rested his hands on his knees and bent over, wheezing for air, exhausted from his long sprint, emitting great puffs of breath, and held up a single finger to signal for them to wait a moment. Liz looked concerned, but EeEe looked closer to how Ginny felt, lips pressed into a thin line in an attempt to stifle the whoops of mirth contained within, and body shaking with suppressed laughter. Soon he had straightened again, still fairly gasping for breath, but they were able to make out what he was saying. "The- *gasp* -Headmaster- *splutter* -wants to- *choke* -speak with you! - *wheeze* -Miss Weasley! - *Cough, cough!*
The three friends exchanged worried glances; it really had only been a matter of time before Dumbledore requested a talk with Ginny, Ginny was really just surprised this hadn't happened sooner, as Dumbledore seemed to know everything that happened at Hogwarts. Ginny thanked Professor Flitwick as he gave her the password to Dumbledor's office, (lemon-*puff*- drops!) and headed off to the gargoyle that guarded the entrance, throwing a quick "See you guys later!" over her shoulder.
The Headmasters office was nearly at the top floor of the castle, and as History of Magic took place near the Dungeons, Ginny was sufficiently out of breath when she reached the gargoyle. Enough so, that she paused to catch her breath, leaning against the wall next to the statue and panting. "Lemon- Lemon drops!" she puffed out and smiled as the gargoyle came to life and jumped aside. Gratefully stepping onto the moving spiral staircase, she studied the knots in the steadily rising elegant cherry wood until she bumped into the very top of the stair. Gingerly she stepped onto the platform outside the great oak door, taking a moment to notice with appreciation the delicate designs of fairies, dragons, and elves carved into the wood; before gently knocking on the door.
~*~ REVIEW PLEASE ~*~
ELEN: glad you enjoyed the chapter, but there is no need to fear me little one, I only bite if you bite first, and your review was *not* a bite. I will try to have a little more D/G action soon. So feel free to send out constructive criticism. (I don't get pissed *that* easily people!)
TWISTIE: I know, not in a million years. But come on, use your imagination! If nothing else it'll be pretty damn funny watching Severus and Lauren at each other's throats.
HEATHER: Ginny does so well in potions that she moved up to the 6th years class, (but only in potions.) and Ginny is the best in POTIONS, and that's it. (And, yes, I did already explain this.)
I'm so glad that most of you like my story! You have no idea how satisfying it is to get those reviews, whether they are not-really-exactly- nice about my occasional writers block, or gushing about my story, it's all welcome.
TO ALL OF YOU PEOPLE WHO ARE BLOODTHIRSTY FOR ROMANCE: there will be more D/G action in a chapter or two. until then, patience is a virtue people!
On with the show.
~*~ Bad Day ~*~
~*~Lauren Clifford's POV~*~
It took years of training and ingrained stubbornness for me not to roll my eyes heavenward at how the man acted. You'd have thought, that even *if* he nearly had an apoplexy when he heard I would be taking over the job he has been pining after for the past god knows how many years, (or so I have heard, and have reason to believe,) after a month or so, he would have calmed down enough to have a two second civilized conversation. But noooo. that would be far to *nice* for the bloody git! Oh god, I've only been here a month or so and I'm already talking with their fucking swear words ingrained in my every sentence!
No, wait. that sounded much more American.
The fact that I'm muggle born probably doesn't help his idea of my teaching abilities at all either. Oh no, bad sign, he's got that god-awful sneer on his face again. I'll bet he knows just how much it bothers me when he does that. Damn him, I'm going to get a crick in my neck if I have to keep looking up at him like this, I'm only 5'2", and he must be, what? 6'3"?
He turned to the students; " I trust you will refrain from creating larger explosions than usual while I am speaking with Professor Clifford? Continue with your Dreamless Sleep Draughts." He seemed to be directing his first comment to one student in particular, who looked absolutely terrified; he had straw-like blonde hair and a slightly pudgy figure.
It took me a moment to identify him as Neville Longbottom, a magically challenged boy in my 6th year class with the worst memory I have ever seen. It was odd, that a boy who was apparently so abysmal in potions could be so spectacular in Herbology, which were alike in so many ways. (Or, I had heard he was spectacular from Professor Sprout.) He was obviously petrified that he would do something wrong and earn the wrath of the nefarious Potions Master. I had heard of a nasty bit of trouble in Neville's 3rd year with a boggart. it wasn't pretty. And Snape hadn't seemed to like the fact that Neville had decked out the Boggart-Snape into a green dress and a molting, vulture topped witches hat any better than Neville, who had anticipated a great loss of house points for the offence.
Snape had turned back to me; "So, Professor. is there any particular reason you saw fit to interrupt my class?" his voice was absolutely dripping in venom. God. I'd forgotten just what his voice sounded like; he does, after all, only speak to me when absolutely necessary. And, believe me, that isn't often.
There are three things that attract me to a man more than anything else. 1: The way he carries himself. This is one of the reasons I just don't find myself attracted to overly muscular men, they posses absolutely no grace in my experience.
2: They can't be overly attractive. They tend to big tad big headed, because they were never forced to shrink their ego.
And most importantly.
3: His voice. The first two seconds I hear a man speak are the most crucial. that is when it is the most obvious to me. That first moment, that is when I decide. decide whether it's worth it, to go after him or not.
Unfortunately for me, Professor Snape has the most intriguing voice I have ever heard. And before my brain could follow my heart. I was hooked, addicted to the sound. He tends to use his power of speech to ensure the hatred and fear from his students; and seems to have the strange ability to sway a person's very emotions with every syllable he uttered. Grating them slowly and sharply across the nerves, like a dull razor. Or settling like a thick fog, almost comforting, but blinding, so still dangerous. Or even sympathetic, or kind, at times I suppose, if he put his mind to it
This knowledge did absolutely nothing to quench my growing feelings for him. And he, of course, could never find out about how I felt if I wanted to keep my head.
I was in serious trouble.
He suddenly, and loudly, cleared his throat; reminding me of just how long I had been standing there simply staring at the man. Giving my head a little shake, I bent my head back almost as far as it would go, and blinking at the gaunt, sneering face above me. I squared my shoulders and held my shaking hands behind my back, it had been so long that anything, or anyone had intimidated me. the timing was a tad inconvenient. I worked my voice into one of pure innocence, with perhaps just a tad of mocking sarcasm hidden beneath. "I was simply sent by the Headmaster to share a bit of news with you Professor, I have no doubt that you have heard that recently I posted notices about the Dueling Club that will be starting back up? Tomorrow evening, in fact." His scowl was all I had to see to confirm that he had indeed heard, and was about as happy about it as a 5 year-old boy who's mother wouldn't get him a lollipop the size of a bludger. I continued, pretending to be oblivious to his rage, "You *have* heard? Oh good. The Headmaster feels it would be better if there were more than one teacher present. You know. two heads are better than one and all that." Of course, I knew he had no idea what I meant by 'two heads are better than one.' it was a muggle phrase after all, I was simply doing it to piss him off. And by the looks of it, it was working well. His face was passive, but his eyes were spilling over with several different emotions: rage (obviously), confusion at my remark on more than one head, and the beginnings of annoyed understanding. as all the pieces clicked into place.
Using his silence to my advantage, and brushing away thoughts about 'The Calm Before a Storm', I pounced. " So if you would kindly assist me-" he, however, cut me off before I could finish. "No." and he turned away to his desk, and sank gracefully into his chair. just like that. Exactly as if I was one of his more troublesome students, whom he could dismiss with a withering glance. If he thought I was going to give up that easily. he had another thing coming, if he couldn't treat me as an equal, I was just going to have to give him a wake-up call.
Cutting around to the front of his desk, I cleared my throat, causing his quill to pause over the paper he was in the process of grading and glance up through his eyelashes at me. He had clearly expected me to leave immediately, 'wake up Snapey.' he slowly placed his quill out of harms way, and glared at me over steepled fingers. When he spoke. I had never heard a voice sound any more lethal. But that wasn't what was bothering me, when he spoke; he made it sound as if he were speaking to an unusually slow child. "Let me see if I can make this any more clear to you professor, the last time I assisted anyone with a Dueling Club. no, I'm sure you've heard the story so I won't bother to explain; but I see no reason to willingly put myself through that hell again. So if you would please find someone else I believe you would find it a more agreeable situation for both of us."
As he reached to pick up his quill again I grabbed his wrist, once again forcing him to look me in my own flashing eyes. If at all possible, the bastard had made me even more livid, and it was time for him to listen to my little monologue. "I have no problems with you not wanting to help me Professor, I simply came to you first at the Headmasters suggestion. There are numerous people whom I could still ask, and it's your own business if you never wish to hear the words 'Dueling Club' again. However." I leaned forward threateningly, so our noses were six inches apart or so, my voice was a deadly whisper. "I am not one of your students, Severus Snape, so you had better get used to it. You can't frighten me with detention, or loss of house points, and I want to make it clear right now that I won't tolerate you treating me like you can. You and I are equals, like it or not, and if you can't recognize that then I will be down here at every opportunity to remind you of it. So I suggest that you treat me like a human being, and not like a bit of dragon dung clinging to your shoe, if you don't want to end up with a curse or two hanging over your head."
That done, I forced my self to straighten rigidly once again, taking deep soothing breaths I loosened my bruising grip on his wrist slowly, and turned around. to find that the entire class had stopped brewing their potions and was gaping at me with growing respect in their wide eyes, I suppose they didn't get to see Snape being told off very often, or never. I resisted the urge to turn around and grin cheekily at Severus, whose glare I could feel boring a large hole into my back, and gave a small forced smile to the class. Sweeping my robes around myself I headed towards the door, my head scarf blowing behind me listening to Snape snap angrily at the class, and the guilty mumbles and rustling of papers as the class started back up again.
Well, that hadn't gone quite as well as I had hoped. I sighed inwardly; at least he knew exactly who he was dealing with now, he probably only hadn't given me a cutting reply because of the shock, and if he thought I wouldn't come through with that bit about coming down to his classroom at every opportunity, he was going to be sadly mistaken. The man was going to be seeing a lot of me from now on. Just as I reached the door and place my hand on the knob, I felt a tall presence behind me and paused, it could really only be one person. Still I didn't turn around, "Fine." The one word was spoken with such grievance, such humiliation, I almost felt sorry for the poor man.almost. "I will be present at the Dueling Club meeting. After all, someone has to be present who has some knowledge of keeping the students under control."
That was about as close as I was going to get to an admission, my smile didn't even falter. I spun around and grinned up at him, replying in my most polite and singsong voice, "Thank you Professor Snape, I'll inform Professor Dumbledore that you have offered your services." And with that, I walked out, at an infuriatingly leisurely pace, leaving a very perplexed Potions Master behind me.
(I waaas going to end it here, but I decided to be nice and give you a bit more.)
~*~ The Very End of 'History of Magic' Class, the Last Class of the Day ~*~
The stupor that seemed to be embedded in the very stone of the History of Magic classroom, had dulled the edge of Ginny's splitting headache, to a painful, pulsing, throb. 'I am way to young to be getting migraines like this', sighing, she shoved aside the roll of parchment that she had scribbled several dates of goblin rebellions aside. If you looked closely at it, you might notice the way that the flowery writing of notes grew more sloppy and pinched as the class wore on. Fishing a well-used leather covered note pad out of her second-hand book bag, Ginny flipped to a clear page. Checking on either side of her, where Liz was murmuring peacefully in her sleep to her left, and EeEe was drawing Professor Binns profile next to her notes, it was surprisingly accurate, but then, there wasn't much to do if you didn't want to listen to the ghost drone on and on. so you may as well improve your drawing skills.
As neither of them were paying attention to anything beyond their own little worlds at the moment, Ginny was in no position to be discovered. She began her list, and it went something like this:
Difficult Matches: 1.Snape and Proff. Clifford (easily the hardest, I mean, this is Snape we're talking about.) 2.Draco and Me (not *quite* as hard, he did kiss me after all.) 3.Neville and Liz (just because, it's Neville.)
Less Difficult Matches: 1.Ron and Hermione (they both obviously love each other, they just need a push in the right direction.) 2.EeEe and Harry (I know EeEe likes Harry, I'm just not all that sure about feelings from the other end.)
Ginny refolded her notebook with a sudden increase in her headache, just as the bell signaled the end of class, and she hurriedly stuffed it back into her bag. The bell cleared her head of the wool that seemed to be stuffed into her head during class, and she remembered the original reason for her headache, although it had been extremely satisfying to see Snape told off, it had lowered her chances of getting the two professors together to the point where it was near impossible. And it wasn't like she needed it to be any harder than it already was.
EeEe and Liz were waiting impatiently by the door. "C'mon Gin!" EeEe whined, "the last class of the day! I am looking forward to some serious rest and relaxation." There was a sound of disapproval from Liz, and EeEe sighed, " Fine! Right after I do my homework." Liz nodded. Ginny sighed inwardly; there had been a large essay assigned that day, due in two days. It wasn't exactly an uplifting end-of-class.
As they tiredly made their way through the stone archway of the classroom door, they caught the amusing sight of Professor Filius Flitwick, the hem of his robes hiked up around his knees, dodging amused students, as he ran flat out down the hall to come to a screeching halt at Ginny's feet. He rested his hands on his knees and bent over, wheezing for air, exhausted from his long sprint, emitting great puffs of breath, and held up a single finger to signal for them to wait a moment. Liz looked concerned, but EeEe looked closer to how Ginny felt, lips pressed into a thin line in an attempt to stifle the whoops of mirth contained within, and body shaking with suppressed laughter. Soon he had straightened again, still fairly gasping for breath, but they were able to make out what he was saying. "The- *gasp* -Headmaster- *splutter* -wants to- *choke* -speak with you! - *wheeze* -Miss Weasley! - *Cough, cough!*
The three friends exchanged worried glances; it really had only been a matter of time before Dumbledore requested a talk with Ginny, Ginny was really just surprised this hadn't happened sooner, as Dumbledore seemed to know everything that happened at Hogwarts. Ginny thanked Professor Flitwick as he gave her the password to Dumbledor's office, (lemon-*puff*- drops!) and headed off to the gargoyle that guarded the entrance, throwing a quick "See you guys later!" over her shoulder.
The Headmasters office was nearly at the top floor of the castle, and as History of Magic took place near the Dungeons, Ginny was sufficiently out of breath when she reached the gargoyle. Enough so, that she paused to catch her breath, leaning against the wall next to the statue and panting. "Lemon- Lemon drops!" she puffed out and smiled as the gargoyle came to life and jumped aside. Gratefully stepping onto the moving spiral staircase, she studied the knots in the steadily rising elegant cherry wood until she bumped into the very top of the stair. Gingerly she stepped onto the platform outside the great oak door, taking a moment to notice with appreciation the delicate designs of fairies, dragons, and elves carved into the wood; before gently knocking on the door.
~*~ REVIEW PLEASE ~*~