Chapter 36. Time With Dean
I was happy. I was. Really, I was. Ok, yes, I was trying to convince myself of that. But I had no real reason not to be happy. I had a great boyfriend and he loved me. I really liked him and we got along great. He was one of the genuinely nicest people I knew and if he was a little blah around the edges, well … everyone had faults right? Dean was an amazing artist and he drew the most gorgeous pictures of me, of our fellow Gryffindors, even of parts of the castle. I particularly liked one he drew of Ron and Hermione where they hadn't noticed anyone watching and were almost snuggled together, poring over something Hermione had brought out of the library.
They were so beautiful together that I just wanted to slap their two heads together, shove the picture under their noses and shout 'come on already! Just snog, dammit' but I held my peace. Hermione wouldn't thank me and anyway Ron just wasn't ready I don't think. But I did ask Dean if I could keep it, and I treasured it up in the hopes that by me treasuring it they would maybe be kept safe for each other. Yeah yeah, I know. There's old Ginny the sap coming out again. But I loved my brother and I adored Hermione and I wanted them to be happy dammit. Any fool could see they were made for each other … well, any fool except my stupidly oblivious brother.
Anyways, there were me and Dean having a good time together. We were good together for a while and at the height of our good times Dean was added to the team by Harry. We were delighted and walked to and from practice together as well as spending as much other time together as we could. Of course, because we were teenagers and that's what teenagers do, we snogged. A lot. We often found ways to be in out of the way places just to snog.
On one such enjoyable occasion, when we'd been taken by the impulse to find a private spot on our way up to the common room, we got company in the form of my dearest brother and his heroic friend. Thankfully I was so enraged by Ron and his idiotic ranting about 'public snogging' and suggesting I was a tart, that I didn't really notice that Harry was there too til after Dean had slunk away. I watched him go with a sneer. Coward, I thought and from then on I didn't see him quite the same way. We were still together, and I still had fun, but that moment cast a shadow over our relationship that never really disappeared.
Still, while Ron and I got into a great sibling battle of the egos, Harry stood in our way. Even though I was annoyed at Ron and even though I hated being 'looked after' I appreciated the gesture. Harry was standing up for me against his best friend. He must at least see me as a mate. This was a huge step I decided. So I focussed my rage on Ron. Then he did it. He threw a curse at me under Harry's arm. I lost it. Harry was there, Harry who I had adored since I could remember and who I still harboured residual crush feelings for. Harry was seeing Ron accuse me of being a scarlet woman in front of my boyfriend and trying to curse me every which way as well.
I lost the plot and started yelling horrible things at Ron. I don't remember that day with any satisfaction at all. It was a shoddy, horrid thing to do and I can only blame my temper. I have a very very bad tendency to anger. I'm … well, I can be a bit aggressive when I'm riled up. Poor Ron had borne the brunt of it more than once, but that doesn't make it right.
'Harry's snogged Cho Chang! And Hermione snogged Viktor Krum, it's only you who acts like it's something disgusting, Ron …' and on it went. To my horror I was on the point of crying and that infuriated me further. Why, oh why did Harry have to see me crying? I think I may have been so harsh to Ron because I was so upset. And when I think back on it I knew I was upset because this was Harry seeing us like this. I knew even then that I didn't really care what Dean thought but the idea of Harry seeing me accused like that devastated me. Plus I was talking about a time that really home to me. Harry snogged Cho Chang a year earlier, and all I ever wanted was for that to be me.
On reflection, when I had stormed back to my dormitory and ranted and screeched and yelled about stupid boys and their stupid idiotic ways and got all my anger out of my system, I realised that the one big reason I was so mad was Harry. I had to say out loud that he had snogged wretched Cho bloody Chang and he was right there seeing me say it and I was soooooo freaking peeved at my dear brother, and … Ok so I hadn't really calmed down that much. But I did notice an interesting thing that had passed me by in the moment.
Harry was looking as angry as Ron. Harry was glaring at Dean as much as Ron was glaring at me. Harry did not look the way boys usually look when they catch people snogging. Not that I was in the habit of being caught snogging (Ok there was this one other time with Michael Corner, but that's not a 'habit' right?). But boys had a reputation for whooping and making boy remarks and being all 'wa-hey' about it. But Harry didn't look pleased. Harry looked pissed off. And there was no reason for that, either. He wasn't my brother to be all 'big brother protecting innocent little sister from her own wanton ways' and anyways the way he reacted wasn't at me like Ron did. He was very definitely glaring at Dean.
A small flutter developed in my tummy. Could he ..? Then reason interrupted me (go away Miss Pragmatic; this is not the time to resurrect yourself! Don't you know you're not wanted here?) and said that he couldn't be and even if he was I was going out with Dean, and I had a huge row with my brother over being able to snog Dean in the open. I was not going to jeopardise that for a 'could be' with someone who was probably not interested.
But the memory of the look in Harry's eyes as I said he'd snogged Cho was etched in my memory. He looked miserable. I don't think he liked being dragged in to being an excuse for me snogging Dean. I don't even know why I said it; it just kind of slipped out. But Harry's eyes, his expressive green eyes, filled with some undefinable emotion when I said that and he looked away. That memory was just … weird. And I filed it away to take out and examine on another day.
I was still so bloody angry at my brother, however, that I left my room and stomped off to Dean's dormitory, glaring at Ron and Harry on the way past though they didn't seem to notice. Each was looking wrapped in his own unpleasant thoughts. A good thorough snogging session did lessen my tension and we spent an enjoyable time abusing Ron and his insults.
I say I don't recall that day with any satisfaction. But that is a bit of a lie. Harry told me later that that was the day he truly realised he had feelings for me. Seeing me with Dean hit him the same way that seeing him with Cho Chang had affected me. Though to me it wasn't as much of a surprise, of course, since you know … that old 11 year old fan-girl crush had paved the way for this more mature attraction and I was used to being passed over by him. But Harry was unprepared for liking me, for the way that seeing me with someone else made him feel. So, the fact that that dreadful day was the day 'he knew' is satisfying in an oblique, crazy kind of way.
Unfortunately, my little outburst had one unexpectedly bad outcome. Ron wasn't talking to me or Dean. Fair enough, we had both expected that and it was way better than having him being all 'protective elder brother' on me. But unfortunately he was also not talking to Hermione. For the life of me I couldn't figure it out for ages. What the hell had she done to the great jerk? But then it hit me. She freaking kissed Krum didn't she? To Ron that was a huge betrayal. Never mind that they weren't together, never mind that it was 2 freaking years ago, never mind that Ron had ignored her girlness for how bloody long. No, Hermione kissed Krum and so she was obviously a scarlet woman too. I mentally rolled my eyes and called him every possible name under the sun. But he was still a pillock and he was still ignoring the poor girl.
I happened to catch Harry's eye one day during that time as he watched Hermione being all hurt by Ron's amazingly idiotic behaviour. I mean it was completely beyond the bounds of normal idiocy even for Ron. Anyway, I could see the frustration in Harry's eyes too. These were his 2 very best friends and one of them was being a complete pillock to the other for no good reason. I smiled at him commiseratingly and he grimaced back. But I understood that he appreciated the gesture.
I wanted, oh how I wanted, to go to him and 'be there' for him because his friends weren't so fun to be with right now. But for a number of reasons, which I cursed myself about late at night when I couldn't sleep, I didn't do it. There was Dean of course. And I may be not the easiest person to get along with always, but I do have a horror, an absolute horror, of letting someone down for no real reason. All that time ago when Ron suggested I go to the Yule ball with Harry, I could have told Neville I wanted to go with someone else. But I didn't. That wouldn't have been right.
And now it really wasn't right for me to ditch Dean for another bloke, especially one I had harboured feelings for … still did if I was totally honest with myself. Which, truthfully, I wasn't much at that time. I had flashes of self insight but they disappeared rather quickly under the flag waving of my decent side. That side of me wouldn't allow me to acknowledge that there might be someone else I liked when I was with a boyfriend. Not to mention that I still thought there was no chance that Harry would see me romantically, so where was the point ditching a perfectly good boyfriend with no guarantee of the other one reciprocating my feelings?
So Dean and I carried on together reasonably well. I slowly grew more and more disenchanted with his ways, but we were still pretty good together. His drawings were still gorgeous and in what I think was increasing desperation he drew more and more of me and him together laughing and being carefree. Unfortunately we weren't quite like that all the time when we actually got to be in the same place. Our time together was increasingly tinged with little arguments so his pictures were increasingly fantasy-based.
One day, however, Dean drew the most amazing picture. He was kept from quidditch practice because of a late detention and got to the pitch just as we were finishing up. There was no reason for him to join us so he sat in the stands as we did the last few exercises before calling it quits. While he was there he did a sketch, just a quick one, of Harry directing us in the practice. We were all in it, all paying rapt attention to him as he gestured while explaining a particularly complex move he wanted us to memorise for next time. Dean caught the fire in his eyes, the passion in his body, and the purpose in his mannerisms. The picture truly caught the essence of who Harry was and even though the rest of us were in it the eye was drawn straight to Harry.
Dean gave it to me after practice because he was very proud of the way he had drawn me. I appreciated the gesture but I kept it mainly so I could take it out and dwell on Harry. And yes, I know that was immensely disloyal. Do you think I didn't berate myself every time I did it? And I told myself it was because I had left over baby girl crush feelings for him, and that he was a good friend and a great captain but I was fooling myself. I was really good at fooling myself, and for a time I really believed it.
Dean was so very kind to me that it felt like kicking a puppy dog when I began to think about breaking up with him. But his possessiveness (I think I may not have hidden the Harry thing as well from other people as I did from myself) and over protectiveness were beginning to drive me nuts. I could feel us slipping apart and while I grieved for the loss of the fun times we'd had I couldn't help but almost hope he'd just do something to justify me wanting to end it with him. 'You're too nice' seemed to be a really inadequate reason to ditch someone, and I couldn't admit to the other possibility now could I? That would have been almost worse. So I stayed with him but kept hoping I could finish it 'reasonably.'