Chapter Two: Heartaches and a Highland Fling


"Who's there?" challenged Harry as the dark figure approached him. "Lumos!"

In the beam of light from the tip of his wand Harry could see that the sinister figure was Professor Snape, looking extremely annoyed and clutching one hand to his eye, the other to his crotch. Harry took a confused step backwards as the enraged looking professor drew near.

"Don't stand there with your mouth open, Potter, you'll catch flies," snapped Snape as he hobbled past. Harry stared as the professor vanished into the dusk. Just then a movement from the lake caught his eye. It was the giant squid, waving its tentacles about in rather a threatening manner. It made an obscene gesture at Harry – or was it aimed at the retreating figure of Snape? – and flopped back into the water with a colossal splash.

Harry walked back to the castle, going as slowly as possible to avoid catching up with Snape. When he reached the portrait hole, he was surprised to see that the Fat Lady was nowhere in sight. "Damn it," he muttered to himself. The Fat Lady must have gone visiting someone, leaving him stranded outside. Just as Harry was about to turn and go, a sound drew his attention back to the portrait. The Fat Lady appeared in the frame, her hair awry, fastening the top button of her dress hurriedly.

"Well?" she said breathlessly. There was a clanking sound from somewhere below her and she turned beetroot red and hissed something at whoever was down there. "Password?" she snapped at Harry.

"Er – dancing queen." The portrait swung open to reveal the circular hole that lead to the Gryffindor common room. As Harry clambered through it he heard a muffled 'slapping' sound and a giggle from behind him. "Oh, Clarence!" simpered the Fat Lady. Who on earth Clarence was Harry had absolutely no desire to know, and he didn't stay to find out.

Things weren't much better inside the common room, where the first sight to meet Harry's eyes was that of Seamus Finnegan standing on a chair singing 'Sex Bomb' while doing a rather lewd dance in Parvati's direction. Parvati was giggling and winking at him while Lavender Brown was attempting to give Ron a sly, come-hither stare.

Harry went to sit by Ron, who was frowning over a sheet of parchment. "What's wrong?" asked Harry.

Ron jumped at the sound of Harry's voice and attempted to cover the parchment with his hands. "Lavender keeps giving me this really weird look," he replied, hunching over whatever it was he had been working on.

"You, erm, doing homework?" asked Harry.

"No!" Ron exclaimed, then, "That is, yes. Homework. That's right. Ahem." Ron hugged the parchment protectively to his chest, glaring around the room suspiciously.

"Riiight." Harry opened his bag and took out his Transfiguration textbook, a sheet of parchment, a quill and ink. "Oh, have you seen Hermione at all?" he asked, remembering that she'd promised to 'help' him with the project. Even though Hermione's idea of 'help' wasn't quite what Harry was after, it was better than nothing.

"No! Why would I have? What are you trying to say? Just what do you mean by that, eh, eh?"

Harry raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "Nothing, I was just wondering if you knew where she was. That's all. Calm down, would you?"

"No I will most certainly not calm down! There is nothing going on between Hermione and me. I haven't got her under my skin, I am getting absolutely no good vibrations from her whatsoever, and she's definitely not my sunshine, my only sunshine-" Ron broke off as he realised he'd started to sing. "I'm just going out for some air," he muttered and rushed off. As he pushed the portrait open, there was a squeal of protest from the Fat Lady ('don't you lot ever knock?'), and a moment later he was gone.

Harry began to rearrange the bits of parchment that Ron had sent flying and caught sight of one piece with "Ode To Hermione" written at the top and a few scribbled out lines underneath. Just then there was another squeal from the Gryffindor portrait ('is there no privacy in this place?') and Neville appeared through the hole, followed by Ginny. Harry felt like his stomach was suddenly made of lead when he saw the familiar way Neville's arm was draped around Ginny's shoulder. Neville winced as he hobbled across to a chair, Ginny by his side.

"You alright, mate?" someone asked.

"Ouch, no. Overexerted a muscle in my groin back there. Gin and I got a bit overexcited." Neville sat back and stretched out his legs, completely oblivious to the mirth his comments were causing to the other Gryffindors.

Just then Ginny noticed Harry standing at the other side of the room. Their eyes met and Ginny's stomach did a double back flip. Strangely enough, it seemed to her as though the crowd of Gryffindors mysteriously parted and everything suddenly started happening in slow motion. She could hear strains of violin music in her head and to her utmost horror, Ginny found herself opening her mouth as if to burst into song! She clamped her mouth firmly shut and looked guiltily around to see if anyone had noticed, casually picking up a magazine that happened to be lying on a nearby table, to cover her reddening face.

However, it was not just Ginny who had felt 'an urge' at that moment in time. Upon catching Ginny's eyes Harry had felt the irrepressible desire to tap dance his way across the room finishing with a rather impressive jazz hands spectacular. Luckily for him Ginny had snatched up a magazine, covering her face with it, and missed Harry's dazzling performance.

Harry steadied his hands, raised himself up off one knee, and cleared his throat loudly. Ginny jumped obviously and sent her magazine clattering to the floor.

"Oh, sorry," both Harry and Ginny stammered at once.

Both turned away blushing and Harry bent quickly to pick Ginny's magazine up from the floor. As he handed it back to her his eyes suddenly caught sight of the cover and he started. Ginny emitted a loud squeak as she too caught sight of the cover. It featured the naked torso of a man with a fire hose swung over his shoulder and the simple title 'Muggle Men in Uniform'.

"Oh, oh my, Harry! This isn't my magazine, I, I found it on the table just a minute ago, honestly," Ginny stammered.

Harry laughed feebly and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "I, er, things seem a bit weird at the moment don't they?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean," replied Ginny, hastily tossing the magazine back onto the table. "I constantly feel like I'm in the mood for dancing, I feel like dancing, I'm…"

Ginny's eyes widened and she stopped herself, resorting to studying the pattern on the arm of the chair intently. There was an awkward silence between the two of them, which was broken only by Neville's clumsy attempts to pass Harry.

"Good Lord! My groin! I say, I don't suppose either of you have seen a magazine of mine? I think I may have left around here," Neville queried.

"Erm, I don't think so Nev, none that could be yours anyway," Ginny replied and Harry grimaced slightly at the easy way in which Ginny referred to him as 'Nev'.

"Oh, never mind. Ah, there it is!" Neville exclaimed, reaching for the magazine that Ginny had placed on the table beside her not five minutes earlier.

Harry and Ginny both regarded him open-mouthed.

"Well, I'm off for a bath, soak myself, have a bit of a read, you know. See you guys." And with that Neville hobbled off up the staircase towards his dormitory, one hand clutching the handrail to steady himself, the other clutching the magazine to his groin.

"Um, nice weather we've been having recently, eh?" Ginny stated, steering the conversation away from the subject of Neville's peculiar reading tastes.

"Yes, yes it has been," assented Harry, "you, erm, you've been well I hope? You certainly look well. What I mean is, I, you don't look ill or anything. Seems like I haven't spoken to you in what must be a week. I like our quirky little conversations, Ginny. They cheer me up sometimes, and take my mind away from other things."

Harry's face had clouded over. Ginny regarded him, slightly concerned and gently placed her hand on his forearm reassuringly. Harry jumped, recovered himself and bid her a hasty farewell.

"Goodnight," Ginny replied as he darted off in the same direction as Neville.

I like them too, Harry, I like them too, she thought wistfully.



= = =

The next morning at breakfast McGonagall stood up and clapped her hands to draw the attention of the room. This took a little more doing than usual, since the sound of various people singing added to the normal breakfast din. "May I have your attention for a moment? May I- Mr. Malfoy! Would you kindly climb down from the table and give Miss Bulstrode back her, er, her padding?"

"I knew it!" exclaimed Lavender triumphantly from the Gryffindor table. "I knew Millicent Bulstrode wore falsies!"

Finally there was silence in the Great Hall and McGonagall cleared her throat and straightened the earflaps of her tartan hat. "Boys and girls, I'm afraid I have grave tidings to tell," continued the professor. "As some of you may be aware, the Giant Squid has been with us for a number of years now." Only Hermione looked as though she knew what the Professor was talking about. No wonder, Harry thought. She's the only one who's managed to get through the whole of 'Hogwarts – A History' without the desire to slit her wrists with the pages.

McGonagall looked upset as she went on, and several of the teachers furtively wiped tears from their eyes as they listened to her. "The Giant Squid has been a central part of our Hogwarts society for a great many years now and it gives us great pain to have to say goodbye after such a long and happy time." Flitwick took a large paisley patterned handkerchief from his sleeve and blew his nose loudly. "However, due to, ahem, a slight altercation with one of the Hogwarts teaching staff, our amphibian friend has decided to move on to pastures – or should I say waters, ha-ha, ahem – anew. Of course, that left the position of guardian of the Great Lake vacant. Now, we have been most fortunate to receive a new guardian so soon, and such a willing and capable one at that. Now let's have a big round of applause for the newest member of the Hogwarts faculty, the friendly ex-dweller of Scottish lakes, Nessie MacDougal!"

The applause was half–hearted to say the least. As long as they weren't physically in it themselves, very few of the students really cared who or what lived in the lake.

Snape seemed torn between making eyes, or rather 'eye', at the Care of Magical Creatures teacher and glowering round at the students as though he held each and every one of them personally accountable for the huge bruise under his eye.

"'Altercation' indeed," snorted Ron, "look at Snape, or rather look at that beauty of a black eye he's got."

As Professor McGonagall sank down into her seat once more, Ron and Hermione prepared to leave the table.

"I don't suppose anyone knows where Neville is?" Ginny asked, "it's just, it's most unlike him to miss breakfast."

"Neville, Neville, Neville," muttered Harry under his breath as he too got up. "It's always bloody Neville."

"What was that, Harry?"

Harry looked up to find Hermione and Ginny staring at him. Ron appeared to be too busy staring at Hermione to have noticed anything.

"Just saying, I've no idea where Neville could be," said Harry, moving aside to allow room enough for Professor Winklebottom-Smythe, the Care of Magical Creatures teacher, to pass by.

"Aah, yeah, me neither Gin. Maybe he's-oof!"

"Out of my way, Weasley," growled Professor Snape as he tore past Ron and Harry, knocking Ron into his cold porridge.

"Oh, charming," muttered Ron, wiping his congealed breakfast off his robes.

"Wonder where he's going."

"Who cares? Hopefully to his untimely death."

"Ron," scolded Hermione as all four made their way towards the exit of the Great Hall.

As they reached the corridor, they happened upon a most bizarre sight. Snape was on one knee in front of the Professor Winklebottom-Smythe, snatching at her hand with his as she tried to draw it away. Suddenly she turned on her heel and strode away down the corridor leaving Snape alone, still bent on one knee.

"Paula! Please, my love…"

However, she took no heed of Snape's pathetic pleas and turned the corner.

Harry and Ginny and Ron and Hermione each exchanged looks. There was a deadly silence in the corridor except for the sound of sobbing drifting from the dejected Snape who began to croon softly to himself, as he drew himself up off the floor.

"All by myseeelf, don't wanna be, all by myself. 'Coz it feels-"

Snape broke off suddenly as he turned to find the four Gryffindors standing behind him, open-mouthed and very bemused. A look of horror flooded his face, only to be replaced with one of rage.

"And what are you all staring at?" demanded Snape. "Get to your common room NOW! And fifty points from Gryffindor for- for looking so goddamn happy!"

Snape's voice broke slightly on that last sentence and he rushed away past them down the corridor as several Hufflepuffs emerged from the Great Hall laughing and chatting.

"Well," said Ron, a smug smile on his face, "looks like Snape's got it bad. Such a pity he seems to repulse women."

"Isn't it just?" added Harry, "Oh no, we'd better get moving, Filch is coming. I don't really feel like an argument with him this early in the morning."

The quartet of Gryffindors was fortunate enough to have rounded the corner in time to miss the suggestive banter that passed between Professor Sprout and Argus Filch.

"What's new pussycat? Whoa, whoa-oh. What's new pussycat? Whoa, whooaaa…" sang Filch, leering as Professor Sprout sashayed past.

"Oh, Argy, I'm so glad someone noticed," she simpered. "I've got my new fishnets on." She lifted the hem of her robe to display a plump, fishnet-clad leg, while those students unfortunate enough to be around recoiled and covered their eyes.

= = =

As they reached the entrance to the portrait hole Ginny expressed a desire to search for Neville and dashed off down the corridor leaving Harry grumbling to himself and Hermione and Ron glancing coyly at each other from time to time.

"Well, I'm going back to bed," began Ron decisively as they entered the common room.

Hermione looked flabbergasted. "But it's only half past eight!"

"Exactly, eight-thirty on a Saturday morning. Besides, what do you think weekends are for anyway, apart from resting?" retorted Ron.

"Well, I'm going to complete some homework early," said Hermione.

"For a change," muttered Ron.

"What was that?"

"Never mind. Come on Harry, I may give you a game of chess after all. You willing to be thrashed by me again?"

Hermione shook her head and walked away.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Honestly, she can be so bloody boring at times. So, Harry, you game?"

"Yeah, okay."

"My board's in the dormitory," answered Ron, making his way to the staircase leading up to the boys' dormitory.

"Ron," began Harry, as they began to climb the stairs, "is Ginny very good friends with Neville? She seems to spend a lot of time with him."

"No idea. She did write to him a lot in the holidays though, owls shooting past at every time of the day. George got hit in the head once by one of them. Mind you, I think the owl came off worse from it. Why do you want to know, anyway?"

"Er, no reason, just curious," Harry replied as Ron twisted the knob of the dormitory door.

"Now," he said as they entered the empty room, "Chessboard, chessboard -argh!" Both boys jumped at the sight of Neville coming out of the closet.

"Neville? What?" began Harry, a puzzled look on his face.

"You see what I did there? Do you? Do you?" questioned Neville excitedly.

Ron stood clutching his chessboard, blankly staring at him. "Neville. You freak me out sometimes."

And with that Harry and Ron left the room, leaving Neville to sink down disappointedly onto his bed, fingering the pink feather boa that was strewn across it.

= = =

Meanwhile, somewhere in England, there lurked sinister forces at work. The origin of these forces, if one searched very carefully, could be pinpointed as being a grand stately home in the middle of the Derbyshire countryside. Inside the manor, a small, quite revolting man, at this precise moment in time, was scurrying along a corridor in search of his master.

As Pettigrew reached the door to the room his master had come to term his 'boudoir', he stopped, his hand on the doorknob, listening intently to the noises coming from within the room. He could clearly hear his master reciting some kind of poetry. Love poetry, he suspected. Women's love poetry at that.

"-here to satisfy your clamorous desires… Lover, I refuse thee!"

"Oh no," muttered Peter.

He raised his hand and knocked on the door. Inside the room, Voldemort ceased striding up and down the room, cast aside his book of poetry and, pinching some colour into his cheeks, flew to the door and wrenched it open. His eyes were alight with excitement.

"Fitzwilliam, my love, you've arri- oh, it's you."

The expectant gleam in Voldemort's eyes faded as he stepped aside to admit his loyal yet annoying minion into his room.

Peter cast his eyes around in wonder as he struggled to take in the sight before him. The room was no longer whitewashed, with heavy dark wood furniture, but had been magically transformed into an extremely feminine bedchamber. From the four-poster bedstead hung an exquisite white silk, on every available surface stood svelte vases of white lilies, and perhaps what was most disturbing was the sight of his master, dressed in lilac and purple, sitting down at his vanity mirror and beginning softly to brush his hair with a set of ladies' brushes which he insisted Maxim had given him as a wedding present.

"Well, sit down Peter. Oh, I say, these corsets don't half chafe. Give you great cleavage though."

Peter sat down on the edge of the bed and watched his master slowly readjust himself inside his undergarment.

Turning to face him, Voldemort crossed his legs and fluffed up his hair. "Yes?"

"Master, I just came to inform you that the spell has taken hold perfectly. It's absolute mayhem at Hogwarts. The teachers are too randy to notice the students, and the students are too busy committing untoward acts with each other to notice anything."

"Oh Peter, you are a darling to come and tell me this. I'm so happy, positively elated. All my plans are coming into play; I'm reading a darling little volume called Wuthering Heights and the spell could not have worked more perfectly. Also, I have a wonderful little French chap coming to deliver some eau d'cologne later today, lily of the valley - my favourite scent. Isn't that marvellous?"

"Er, yes my Lord."

"Well don't sound too convincing, will you?" The Dark Lord emitted a little sob. "You do know how to quash a girl's feelings." Voldemort turned dramatically back to his mirror, covering his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Your lack of enthusiasm has hurt me, Peter. Just leave. No, I don't want to hear it. I can't face you at the moment. All I can say is I'm so glad that I no longer have to rely on you for my plans to work. Not now, anyway, now that my little friend is soon to penetrate those enchanted walls. Hoorah for Basil, my most trusted minion."

Wormtail slipped unnoticed from the room as his high-strung master burst into a bout of manic laughter.

A/N The authoresses would like to thank everyone who's read the story so far, and we urge you to continue. Things will soon be, erm… heating up at Hogwarts… tell you what, while you're here, how about you pop by and leave a line or two of review, just let us know you've read it, eh? Ten points for whoever can guess where our broad hints about Neville's, erm… orientation… are leading!