Part
Ten by Imogen and Ashwinder
The room was tense. Embarrassed
faces burned in every corner, and yet the common room was strangely silent,
only the cracking of the fire daring to break through their humiliation. The
incriminating debris from McGonagall's talk littered the table before them. Harry couldn't look Ron or Hermione in the eye, even though
he'd done nothing wrong... on this occasion. Ron, on the other hand, glowered
at Harry, looking to all intents and purposes as if it would give him the
greatest pleasure to commit brutally slow and painful murder with his bare hands.
Finally Ron leaned forwards and grabbed the socks, which Ginny was twisting
nervously in her hands. He brandished them fiercely.
"Just what is the
meaning of this," he demanded, his ears turning an interesting shade of
magenta.
"They're socks," Ginny replied
calmly. "You know, you wear them on your feet."
"They're Harry's
socks," Ron growled. "Found in the girls' bathroom."
"They could have been
your socks," Ginny retorted. "It was just pure chance I happened to have stolen
Harry's that day. I forgot them. It could happen to anyone."
"Yes, right," Ron
retorted scathingly. "You really think I'm going to believe that."
"All right then, we were
shagging in the shower," Ginny snapped. "That's what you want to hear isn't it?
Or maybe that's just your guilty conscience talking. Icarus Wings, indeed!"
Hermione turned puce and
began to make a peculiar choking noise, reminding Harry of that time he'd
nearly swallowed the Snitch.
"We've all been
embarrassed," Neville's timid voice broke in. "Can't we all just try to forget
it? Please?"
"We could," Seamus
Finnegan broke in, grinning from ear to ear. "But what we really want to know
is, who were you tickling with that feather in the greenhouse, Neville?"
Neville mumbled
something inaudible.
"What's that?" Dean
Thomas who was nearest spluttered slightly and then roared with laughter.
"Trelawney? You've got to be kidding?"
"Bet she saw more than
her crystal balls that night," Ron muttered to Harry, beneath the shrieks that
greeted this revelation.
Neville cleared his throat.
"She told me it was fate. That the planetary alignment demanded it."
"We always said she
needed her inner eye testing," Harry chuckled back to Ron. "Can you imagine,
Trelawney writhing in the potting compost!"
"And the feather?"
Hermione's voice quavered.
"Well, what do you
use them for?" Neville retorted, flame-faced. Hermione turned scarlet.
"Um… research," she
said. She tried to change the subject. "Now Seamus, about these…"
Seamus glanced rapidly
at his watch. "Oh look at the time," he exclaimed hastily. "Almost time for
dinner. I do hope it's a smorgasbord tonight. I'm starved."
He leapt to his feet and
bolted out of the portrait hole, Lavender at his heels, and by unspoken
agreement, the rest of the Gryffindors slowly followed them out, and wound
their way down the various corridors and stairwells to the Great Hall.
The scene that greeted
them as they entered the Great Hall was somewhat unusual; the room looked much
as it always did, the enchanted ceiling strewn with heavy rain clouds, an
ominous feeling like that of an impending thunderstorm filled the room. As they
slid into their seats at the Gryffindor table, even Harry had to notice that
some groups of students were acting in a very peculiar manner indeed.
Crabbe and Goyle were
gazing adoringly at each other, entwining their hands across the table,
oblivious to the jug of pumpkin juice, which they'd sent clattering to the
floor. Pansy Parkinson was slowly unbuttoning the neck of her robes, licking
her lips in what she evidently thought was a sensual manner, but the sheer
piece de resistance came, when Millicent Bulstrode put her knee onto the table
and reached across for Malfoy, hauling him upwards by his robes and pushing him
flat on his back, right in the middle of the mashed potatoes. A rather
passionate snog appeared to follow.
"It's got to be a love
potion," Hermione said, being the first to recover her voice at such sights.
"But that's impossible. They're illegal at Hogwarts; it's in Hogwart's: A
History. It's right there on page 734, second paragraph from the bottom.
You know Ron, if you ever bothered to read it, you'd know this already."
"I don't need to read
it," Ron chuckled. "I've got an audio copy by sitting right next to you."
"Look," Ginny gasped,
clutching Harry's arm in hilarity.
Malfoy was using his
somewhat slow Seeker reflexes, and had managed to wriggle sideways through the
mashed potato, escaping Millicent's fervent embraces. He staggered across the
room towards the door, and stumbled over Ginny's chair. He paused momentarily,
and a slow grin spread across his features as he looked Ginny up and down,
clearly undressing her with his eyes. He slicked his potato-smeared hair back
from his eyes and smiled in what he thought was a seductive manner.
"Want to come and stir
my cauldron?" he purred. Harry almost died laughing, before he remembered that
he should be punching Malfoy though the wall and into the middle of next week.
Ginny got to her feet, and placed a restraining hand on Harry, her eyes
twinkling with impish mischief. She winked at him and turned back to Malfoy.
"Oh Draco, dear, I
thought you'd never ask," she said, trying to keep a straight face. Malfoy
clumsily reached for her, an expression of pure lust in his eyes. Harry reached
for his wand, but Ginny was faster. A flicker of a second later and she had
repeated Moody's transfiguration performance, and a trembling albino ferret
cowered on the floor at her feet.
"I thought as much," she
laughed. "You're not a man, you're a… um… ferret."
Milicent Bulstrode had
finally waded out of the mound of mashed potato and came crashing across the
room, wailing loudly and throwing herself on the floor beside the ferret, who
looked more terrified than ever.
"Draco!" she howled at
the top of her lungs.
"Poor Malfoy," Harry
commented, with an evil grin. "It looks like he needs a mate. It'd be a shame
not to help out a lonely soul." With a swift wave of his wand, Millicent
disappeared and a large brown ferret appeared. With a squeak of horror, the
white ferret scuttled beneath the table at warp speed, followed by the brown
one at a more sedate waddle. A squealing noise confirmed that she had indeed
caught him.
Harry turned to Ron.
"Pass the mashed potato,
please," he grinned.
Suddenly the door into
the Great Hall swung open to admit two rather dishevelled looking figures.
Seamus twitched his robes straight, and with a slight nonchalance strolled
across the hall, with Lavender by his side. Harry noticed that her robes were
buttoned lopsidedly, and nudged Ginny. They had apparently been enjoying their
own private smorgasbord.
"Hi there," Seamus
grinned. "What have we missed?"
"Not much," Ron said
airily, choking back the laughter, as more Slytherins could be seen in various
states of undress and in various dishes.
"Wait!" Hermione yelled suddenly.
"Its' tonight, don't you remember? The Death Eater attack. No wonder the staff
aren't here."
They sobered quickly, just in time
to hear sets of footsteps heavily approaching the door.
