As of July 10th, 2011:
*screams, overcome by sheer nerdliness and joy* I GOT A FUNCTIONAL BRAIN AND A RIDE! I'M GOING! *begins to do a wiggling dance in computer chair* DOWN IN TOWN, THEY'RE HAVING ALL OF THE HARRY POTTER MOVIES BEING SHOWN IN THE THEATRE! IN ONE MASSIVE MARATON!
*frowns* My sister and I were invited to get a ride by one of our mutual friends. My sister wasn't gonna tell me until she was leaving for her (the friend's) house, thus forcing me out of my invite. I'm about ready to pummel the brat (my sis). I've been in the roll of fill-in-mom since ours took a vacation to MI, and she knows that I'm dying to see the HPs in theatres, since we missed a good number of them. So. She repays me by trying to make me miss the opening night? *wipes an angry tear* What kind of little sissy is that?
*coughs* Anyways. Rant over. Sorry for boring you.
Disclaimer: *throws a blasting hex*
The results:
D - - cl - i - - - r
There. Heh.
James watched bemusedly as his son flipped through book after book of quotes and poems. The lack of proper sleep was becoming more apparent by the page, and even Lily had left to take a nap almost three hours ago. Hermione looked to be the only one who could act like she'd gotten a full night's rest - It was probably the muggle coffee, James mused - and had scampered off after breakfast with that Diggory fellow to do whatever it was she did on Saturdays.
Half-heartedly, he also noted that Harry should be studying for the very-close,-as-in-next-week year end exams. With every failing student, the Gryffs would loose points, and even though Gryffindor was almost 200 points ahead of Slytherin, much thanks to Hermione's status as teacher's pet and the ten-point rewards Flitwick and Sprout both gladly gave per correct answer, they could still loose. Somehow. But the House Cup was comfortably in reach.
At the moment, however, Hermione was trying and failing not to giggle as she learned the tango. MM was beginning to sound quite gay, with all the jabbering about correct hip swaying and the importance of a sache.
And the heels certainly weren't helping her campaign to keep a straight face - she towered a good three-and-a-half inches over Draco, and until he had a growth spurt she would continue to do so.
Plus, the bright red, way-too-tall-for-a-girl-her-age, strappy-as-heck stilettoes MM had insisted she learn to "passionately adore, da-a-a-ahrling" were absolutely ridiculous. Only through sheer force of will (and an absurd amount of practice), had Hermion elearned to properly walk, run, jump, piviot, and generally not maim herself in those shiny death traps.
"So, Dray - " Hermione paused to pull off a turn that'd been taunting her for weeks " - ballet after lunch?"
"Nah." He spun her prettily. "I want to get this down before the summer hols."
"Mmm, 'kay. But maybe after dinner Monday...?"
He hummed an agreement while MM corrected her footing and his lack of blocked hips.
Ahh. A Sunday breakfast after a long, hard run was certianly the sweetest. Especialy when in good company. Cedric had already poured her coffee - black, just as she liked it - and buttered whatever bread product Mimzi had prepared for her.
"Morning," Hermione murmured slipping into the only open seat at their relatively tiny table in the back corner. "How's your weekend so far?"
He pushed the cup over to her side. "That crazy purple girl from your dorms keeps following me, asking about my intentions towards... Well, I dunno, since I ran off... But it was still scary, Jean."
"Now you know how I feel in the mornings." Adopting a shrill voice: "'Ohhh, Hermie, how did you mamage to catch Harry Potter aaaaaand Cedric Diggory?' Or, possibly: 'Can I do your hair, Hermie? I'm sure it won't be so bushy with some beauty potions... And your makeup, pretty, pretty, preeeeetty peeeeaseeeeee?'" She paused, gadging his expression over the rim of her cup. "And, my all time favorite (so far, anyways): 'Hermie, can you get me some of Cedric and Harry's haaaaiiiiir?' Yeah, she actually had the gall to ask."
Cedric looked downright horrified. "What?" he squeaked. "Are the rest of the girls - that other blonde one, the black haired one, maybe? - like... That?"
"Ah. No. Lindsay Criship - the blonde one, Oli - is more into drawing than males. Janice is the same with her music. They keep to themselves, mostly. Sometimes Lindsay'll work with Dean Thomas on the quiddich banners for Harry and the team, and Janice taught me a very useful charm for warmups once she got done with playing her flute with that one boy in Ravenclaw - Jason? Roland? - and, anyways, they're both really nice."
"Neither are after my hair?"
She snorted and patted his hand. "Neither are after your hair."
"Good. I've gotten enough from the little first years in my house. They gater around me in droves." He struck a dramatic pose. "I can hardly stare at your beautiful face from across the hall, my lovely. It has brought me such sorrow."
Hermione was caught between laughing and blushing. "Don't flatter, Oli. It's mean."
"Flatter? I do no such thing, my sweet."
Seeing her eyes narrow, he started backtracking. He hadn't meant to make her angry. Who knows just what curses she'd come across in those ancient texts...
And then she pulled a pose mirroring his, and psedo-depressed look on her face. "Oh Oliver, my dearest Oliver, I could never compare to your manly beauty." She grinned cheekily at his shocked dumb expression.
Oh. It was on. (1)
"Jean, my lovely Jean, how could you say such a wounding thing? My manliness could never withstand your femine charm. And your looks make Veela cry."
Now it was an unspoken race to make the other blush first. It was near 8:45 when they began leaving.
"Until tomorrow, my lovely lady." Cedric caught her wrist and layed down the trump card - kissing her hand. When he looked up hopefully... He found her pursing her lips to hold back laughter and not blushing one bit. Dang.
"Until tomorrow, my lowly lord."
It was amazing how a few hours time, he'd managed to gain an almost brotherly affection for her, and simultaniously flirted shamelessly without so much as a second thought. Hm. Odd. Shouldn't it be the opposite - they flirted and he moved from brotherly feelings to a crush? Eh. He rather preferred it this way, since Potter was less likely to kill him in his sleep.
On a completely diferent note, he'd have to contact the Weasley Twins about getting down his bet. Second year...
"Mione?"
Harry watched her walk through the Fat Lady's portrait, humming tunelessly, and unceremoniously dump herself on the end of his couch. Looking mildly surprised to see him, she murmured quietly, "Hey Harry. You're up early."
He scooted over to her and, hesitating just a moment, pulled her into his side. She slumped in gratefully, looking ready for a nap. Harry debated with himself, then pulled her half into his lap and let her drop her head onto his shoulder.
Arms around her and fighting a stupid grin, Harry cleared his throat. "And why should I miss these vital hours of the only day a week you put aside to spend time with me, eh?"
"You shouldn't." She yawned. "Sorry if I fall asleep on you. It's a lucky thing that no one bothers to get up before the crack of noon - gives me time to rest up for the day ahead."
"What is this? I've always thought better of you, Miss Granger."
"Hush up, Mister Potter. I'm trying to nap here."
"Yes, love."
Hermione's head jerked up, not feeling much tired anymore. "Pardon?"
Blushing and looking at anything but her, he blathered something about Seamus telling him that guys sometimes called their close female friends 'love', and he thought it fit, 'cause she was his best friend and a girl, and he was really sorry that he'd overstepped his bounds, and he wasn't ever gonna do that kind of thing again, and he didn't wanna loose her as a friend, and he was gonna miss the cuddling, and he was really sorry, and, and, and -
"It's fine, Harry." She relaxed back onto him. "I thought you meant something else by it..."
"What else could I mea - " Harry cut himself off. "I don't wanna know, do I?"
"Nope," Hermione mumbled sleepily into his neck, having relaxed after the first or third sorry. "May I go to sleep now?"
"Yes, love."
Not bothering to mask her snort, Hermione leaned into him further and easily dropped to sleep.
A few minutes later, Harry followed her example and drifted off... His stupid grin did break out, though...
...
Harry awoke slowly, feeling quite comfortable. He was warm, probably from the blanket, and he was holding something to his chest. That something had a lot of bushy hair, and many strands of it curled frizzily into his face. The afternoon sun on his eyelids eventuially got him to squint around.
To eyes. Lots of eyes. From all sides.
Instinctively, Whatever-He-Was-Holding was swiped between him and the back of couch and he was reverting to the Dursley Times - sit still, make no noise, and hope to whatever's out there that the eyes won't take Whatever-He-Was-Holding away in spite. (2) 'Cause whatever it was, he really liked having a dreamless sleep and it seemed to make that happen. Thus his reluctance to let Whatever-He-Was-Holding go, even if it was securely pressed into his back and fisting the back of his shir -
Pause.
What?
In his stillness, he noticed that Whatever-He-Was-Holding was breathing softly. That fact was proven by the soft blowing on the back of his neck, making his hair stand on end and him want to squirm away from the tickling sensation. Add the fact Whatever-He-Was-Holding was latched onto the back of his shirt... And Whatever-He-Was-Holding became Whomever-He-Was-Holding. The frizzy curls confirmed his suspicions: This was his Mione.
How on earth'd Hermione'd gotten into his cupperboard was beyond him, but he sure as Merlin wasn't gonna let Dudley get to her. So he made sure she was protected from view fully by his scrawny body before thinking on a plan to sneak Mione out before Vernon or Dudley could spot her. The front door was too risky...
Pause II.
There's light in the room. Which rules his cupperboard out of the list of places he could be. So. Where was he?
Harry almost slapped himself. The Common Room. He'd falled asleep with Mione earlier this morning after she'd come back from her breakfast and whatever else she did so obnoxiously early in the mornings.
So now he'd been subjected to a typical Gryffindor Wake Up, and she'd luckily slept through the ordeal. Thank Merlin, 'cause this was embarassing enough already.
"Should we - "
" - collect the bets - "
" - for these - "
" - two love birds from - "
" - the other Houses?" Fred and George asked the Commons at large.
"What?" Harry squawked.
"The bets - "
" - of course."
"What bets?"
"Well, there are - "
"- many different types."
"First kiss."
"First in-front-of-school-hug."
"First act of jealousy."
"First newspaper article."
"First date."
"First hand holding in the halls."
"First PDA."
"First PDD."
"First snog."
"First time you bash that Malfoy's face in for insulting your dearly beloved."
"First time you snap and pummel Snape for insulting your beloved."
"First pet names."
"First proclimations of love."
"First embarassing Valentines cards."
"First squishy, no-one-else-is-in-the-room incident."
"And where it happens, Fred."
"Yes, of course. How could I forget?"
"Easily, Georgie... First time you announce she's the most beautiful person you've ever seen."
"First major fight... This one has almost nothing on it, right George? After all, I'm Fred."
"No you aren't."
"Yeah, Fred, I am."
Mione groaned from behind/under Harry. "Shut up, the lot of you, or I sware I'll curse you all into oblivion and back."
People began to scuttle away, recognizing the truth in her tone, and the Twins only grinned as she pulled Harry out of his protective stance, off of her, and snuggled into his side, not embarassed in the slightest by his closeness. Harry turned red enough to make Ronald proud, but went on with her not-so-subtle prompting without complaint.
"What's PDD, by the way, Forge?"
There was a minute where the Twins did nothing but gape at her. "You... Just... Outsmarted us...?" Thye asked simultaniously.
"Yes. It's not that hard, honestly."
The boys shared a look as Harry got situated as his Mione's pillow (he didn't much mind the job).
"Why?"
She raised a single eyebrow. "I got tired of your constant name switches, so until I can tell you apart without the shadow of a doubt, you'll be Forge and Gred. Now neither of you can say you're the other twin. It works out well... For me, anyways." She gave them both a wicked smirk. "Now, what is PDD?"
"Possessive Display of Dumbness," 'Forge' told her. "Harry is the one that bet's focused on, for the most part."
"I wonder why..." Seeing Harry's already-drooping-eyelids, she knew he wouldn't even think of hitting back. Score.
"Gred?"
"Yes, Forge?"
"I rather like this girl."
"As do I. If only we were younger, eh Gred?"
"I thought I was Gred."
"Nope, you're Forg - "
"Quiet, Harry's almost asleep."
After this, Harry knew no more. 'Cause he fell to sleep, of course.
Severus Snape was in a particularily pleasant mood. He'd mentally scarred one little Puff from a verbal lashing, taken about 75 points for absolutely no reason, failed a few Gryffindorks, and kept most of his thoughts away from his rather joyless past. Add in the fact that it was a Monday morning, only two days before testing, and he only had so long before the term was over.
Of course, he'd had to have the spawn of Satan first thing that morning for a double period. Well, the Spawn of Potter. Eh. They were the same in Severus' dictionary, anyways.
At the moment, the boy was practically drooling over Miss Granger between glares of absolute loathing to those in a three-to-five foot radius of her. The boy was obviously insane, and it was a point Severus was trying vhemtly to prove to the Headmaster so that Potter's Spawn would no longer have to be in his view. It was his newest hope.
Quietly, Severus wondered if the slob of a boy would grab her and start petting her, muttering to himself, "My preciousssssssssss, my preciousssssssss..." and twitching occasionally.
It certainly wouldn't be the first time Severus'd seen a Potter do so.
Now, the real entertainment came when Miss Granger accidently sliced her finger.
Draco had grabbed her hand immediatly, scanning for any other abraisons. Potter's Spawn zeroed in on this and came out swinging. The Stupidest Weasley Yet, as Severus so lovingly referred to Ronald, merrily joined the brawl, assisted by the bumbling Longbottom when Crabbe and Goyle lumbered into the fray.
For a minutes, Severus watched their petty punches, a smirk on his face. Then: "Twenty-five points from Gryffindor." When they showed no intentions of stopping: "For each individual interrupting."
Distantly, the thunder of 175 rubies flying out of the bottom of the Gryffindor hourglass was heard. The fighting came to and abrupt and dead halt. Then, fast as lightning, they boys flew back to their seats, since Miss Granger had already slipped into hers sometime during the little tiff.
The Gryffindorks' faces showed that they knew a bad, bad thing had just happened. Their lead was virtually nonexistant.
Severus scanned the room, looking at their tiny faces and trying his best to not cackle. They were apparently too shocked to be angry. When he came to Miss Granger, he expected tears. Or at least something that wasn't what she was doing. I.E.: Looking just over his shoulder, and shaking her head.
Mouthing. The. Word. Lily.
How did she know about...? He made a strangled sound between a terrified gasp, disgusted growl, and a horrified belch.
"Seventy-five points from Gryffindor, Granger. Never say that word in my class. In fact - keep your insufferable, oversized, prattling, intolerable, hideous, self-centered, whiny, disgusting, know-it-all, buck toothed trap shut for the rest of the period of I'll - "
He was cut off by the slamming of a door and the faint heave of a sob.
Serves her right.
... Right?
Severus wasn't so sure, seeing the reaction of the class. Even the Slyths were glaring at him.
In fact, he spotted Pansy Parkinson, infamous for her daily tauntings of Miss Granger, giving him a 'You done wrong, man. You done real wrong.' expression and crossing her arms. That annoying Brown was giving him much the same look, her lips pursed in a distinctly McGonagall fashion and turned down at the sides. A voice exactly like Lily's was screeching at him, angrier than hed ever heard her.
Another voice, this one eerily reminiscent of that Black prat, piped up in his head. Oooooh, Snivellus, how did you manage to turn even the Slyths against you? How does it feel, ol' Snotty Boy? It laughed quite aggrivatingly, echoing around in his brain. Better do some damage control, Snapple.
Eye twitching, Severus replied, I don't need to.
You're gonna be skinned alive if you don't. Looks like James' son is ready to lead that proposition.
His right side began to twitch too. I hate you, Black.
Of course you do, Sevvy-kins. Of course you do.
Another disgusted growl slipped out, and all the twitching doubled. "In apology for my words to Miss Granger, I award Gyffindor fifty points."
Black gave a triumphant bellow, while Potter's Spawn made an angered one. "YOU TOOK 100 FROM HERMIONE ALONE!"
Ooooh, Harry has a point. He's quite in love with her already, is he not?
Die, Black, die. Even in Azkaban, you refuse to get out of my head.
Harry's waiting for a reply, Sir Snivells A Lot.
Diiiiieeeeeeeee. Oh, and... "Shut up, Potter. This is your only warning."
The boy glared at him, then gathered both his and Miss Granger's supplies, and left.
Choking on tear, Hermione barreled into Professor McGonagall's third yead, Gryff/Puff transfiguration lesson, beyond caring that there was a class in session. She didn't even notice Cedric's worried face or the Twins' calls of "What happened? Who do we kill?"
"Pro-Professor McGo-onagall, I-I'm goi-oing f-f-fo-or a run," she managed between hiccup-sobs. "Wi-Will yo-you ple-ease ex-e-excuse me-e fro-om m-my oth-ther class-ses; I-I don-on't th-th-think I'm in-n the-he r-ri-igh-t state of-f-f mi-i-i-ind."
And she was gone. Not a glance spared to the room, or the startled class in it.
Solemly, Minevera wrote and sent the messages, adn then she looked upon them, the thinnest lips seen since James' time. "Please respect Miss Granger, and try not to spread false statements."
Everyone knew it was too much to ask for them to keep gossip to themselves, being the bunch of thirteen and fourteen year olds they are, but something abut her face told them to at least keep soem fact in the things they'd tell their friends.
Poor Cedric was about to jump out of his seat and ask McGonagall to let him find Hermione, but the door opened and a Harry Potter with two bags over his shoulders trooped in. He didn't seem to see the class, and only focused in on the Professor.
"Where's Hermione?" he demanded, looking rather imposing for an eleven year old.
"Miss Granger will be back by dinner. Return to your class."
"No." The Twins looked rather proud of this statement, and, unseen, James was cheering his son on. "Snape's the reason she's like that, and I refuse to sit in his room for two hours or more as he insults my best friend and my house, along with my father and my lack of family. Where. Is. Hermione?"
McGonagall narrowed her eyes, and it was silent for a moment. "She is safe, Mr. Potter, and that is all you should worry on. I will let you away from Professor Snape's potions lessons, but only for today, and you will sit in the common rooms. Do not roam the school, or you will have a detention for each minute you do."
The class watched with baited breath as Harry gritted his teeth and nodded. They all knew he wouldn't be caught in the halls, but he'd be looking for her.
Cedric heard Anna Graves lean over to her friend and murmur, "Oh, the gossip to be had."
1) On like Donkey Kong.
2) This is something I can imagine the Dursleys doing to a young Harry. Say he got a teddy bear - I dunno how, but that's not so important - and even if darling Dudders had ten just like it, they'd take Harry's away. Probably in the morning, Harry'd wake up with the teddy in his arms, to Petunia's eyes glaring in the grate/vent to his little room, and next he knew the teddy'd be gone and he'd be punished. And as for his immediate stillness... I just think thats how he'd react. Stunned motionless, and this shock therapy (for lack of a better term) over a long time would make him go all statue-ey after hiding his teddy - or, at this time, Hermione (AKA: Whatever-He-Was-Holding, Whomever-He-Was-Holding).
Yea, I know I'm horrible, and this was all filler. Next chappie spans the tests and some James and Lily goodness. I dunno where they went for the most of this chappie, and I feel like kicking myself... But possibly I'll put their PoV on this in a flash back later on... Maybe?
Anyways, love to you all. I barely have the time to write, and I got a recurve bow to take up even more of my free time, so I don't much know if there's an update incoming.
And, yes I saw the last movie. One word:
LOVE.
Lawrd, I loved, loved, loved, loved, loved, loved, loved, loved, loved, LOVED it. It's still fighting the third movie as my all time fave, though. But it was awesome, 'cause when we were in the theatre watching it, everybody clapped when Nev did his choppy thing of amazingness, and when Bella keeled over. I think I made a bunch of nerd-friends, too, which made me feel less alone in the world.
Oh, and I found the hypothetical father of all my crazy black, white, and weirdo children - he's blonde like me, pale-ish, skinny, blue-eyed, and really tall. Yep, I think there's no genetest needed there. Definitley not. Ahh. You've just gotta love Neville. It's my nickname for 'The Father' since none of us actually knew what he was called.
And I was so proud of myself when I didn't cry at any time throughout the movie. My sissy did when Snape was sobbing over Lily's not-so-alive body... I had to look away, or focus on his nose, to keep from doing the same. Did anyone else notice that they had a differently dressed Lily for the same scene they'd already filmed? Just a bit of botching I caught, is all.
I also couldn't help announcing "MANHUG!" to the theatre when Voldie hugged Draco. It got a lot of laughs, actually.
Hmm... What else? Oh, yeah, Harry's total lack of regard for Hermione as he and Ron starting stripping in front of her after they got out of the lake they'd bailed off the dragon in. It disturbed me deeply, Radcliffe's pale, semi-hairy chest. I couldn't even bear (or is it bare?) to glance at Grint's. Thank goodness that Emma Wattson got to keep her clothes on, 'cause I wouldn't have been able to stop myself from rushing out of the theatre to puke my guts out. Ugh. It still make me shudder, thinking about it.
Goodness, when we got to the infamous Harmony tent scene, I actually heard someone quite near 'Neville' cheer "HARMONY!" from the back of the theatre. *looks into the distance* I think I'm in love...
Well, there's more, but I don't much feel like rambling all of you marvelous readers into a stupor about my various movie experiences, so I'll leave it at that.
Love you all. Kyna takes top spot, as always. A note to her: Mum's back. Whoopie.
I still uphold my promise to finish by the end of my summer vacation.
Thanks for reading, especially with all of my lack of new chappies and neurotic/blonde tendencies.