A/N: And here begins the unneeded fluff! REVIEW, PEOPLE, REVIEW!
WARNING!: H/G may rot the brain.
Disclaimer: None belongs to me! The idea for the unneeded fluff idea belongs to the story 'Palmistry' which can be found on sugarquill.net, and the rest of the writing belongs to me, so...lemme alone -.-
Get a Clue
Chapter Two
Palmistry
Thursday, for Harry Potter and his assortment of friends, went by without much bother. Now that he knew what the 'big weekend event' was, he needn't be worried.
That much.
Okay, so he was worried. His acting skills, as far as he knew, were not that good, if they even existed.
But Friday brought a new worry along to his already buzzing brain: What if Draco and Ginny had to...kiss?
He couldn't help but shudder at the very thought. But why was he shuddering? Ginny was a friend of his. Nothing more, nothing less. And he could explain, easily, in an instant, that he wasn't attracted to her in any way.
But then again, he always felt nice when she laughed at something he said, or blushed and muttered 'thank you' when ever he complimented her off the top of his head, and he had taken the time to notice that she was getting prettier and prettier every day, making even the likes of Cho Chang pale in comparision.
But that didn't mean, necessarily, that Harry Potter was attracted to Ginny Weasley.
Pshaw.
He looked down at his schedule, almost forgetting where he was going. Next was...a light groan escaped his lips. Divinations. Why was it always Divinations? That or Potions.
But they wouldn't be taking that any time soon, for Snape, apparently, was enraged with the pink Princess costumes in his dungeons.
He climbed up the ladder almost absent-mindedly, and only when his head swam in vanilla again did he come to his senses, mainly because he needed to if he wanted to stay awake. He stumbled to his seat beside Ron, who he had been walking with earlier, and then Ron had mysteriously disappeared somewhere.
"Where'd you go, then?" Harry asked, curiousity seeping through his sleepy tone.
"Nowhere," Ron snapped immediately. Harry arched a brow, shook his head, and looked forward just in time to see someone who looked oddly like one big glimmer.
Professor Trelawny had entered the building, and you have no idea how much Harry wanted her to leave it.
"Tooo-day, my young scholars, we shall learn the mystical and an-ch-ient art of palm-est-ry..."
The accent marks were needed, sorry. There'll be no more of those, okay? Okay.
"...We will be reasearching the lines of the hand, and what they mean. For instance, perhaps the most prominent and telling, the line...of fate. First, palms up, with your dominate hand only, everybody...yes, that's what I like to see...now, don't feel ashamed if you do not have a fate line, for they are rare. It should start just above the wrist and go straight, but do not fear if it goes off course, it does not always mean danger...now, raise your hand if you have located your fate line."
Something about the way she'd said 'fate' made a shudder run up Harry's spine. And usually, he'd be turning his snorts into coughs by now. He examined his hand. Of course, he had a line, as clear as the sky is blue.
A memory came floating back to him. Ron had once told Harry that "If it was rare, he had one," and to tell the truth he was beginning to think Ron was right.
He raised his hand. It was a death-wish.
"Well, Mr. Potter, it seems you are the only one who has raised their hands...let's inspect it, shall we?"
Again: Death. Wish.
"Actually, I'd rather not---"
"No use arguing, Mr. Potter. Show me your palm, please."
He sighed lightly, and offered her his palm. She examined it for a moment, and pulled away, with a dramatic gasp.
"Mr. Potter...your fate line has very many other lines intercepting it...it's as straight as an arrow, and I've never seen one so clear...but it ends, Mr. Potter, it ends...right about..." Her long nail dragged along his skin, scratching it slightly. "...It stops right about here." She pointed to the end of his line, and it had been intercepted by another line.
Ron fought back laughter.
"Mr. Potter, you are fated...fated for death." Lavender and Parvati squealed excitedly and Trelawny marched regally back to the front of the class.
Harry shook his head slightly, and decided that it was all a load of dung.
Except...his fate line. Something about it made him shudder and wonder why he'd never noticed it before.
Something also made him think that this Murder Mystery Weekend thing was going to be bigger than anyone had ever thought.
*
"Ugh...the pumpkin juice is all watered down..."
"Ron, do you always have to begin every convorsation with 'ugh'?" Harry asked, raising a brow at Ron.
"Shut it, Potter," He chewed his food thoughtfully. "And the food...tastes like rubber."
"It does not---oh, it does. Wonder why?"
"Maybe Hermione finally got the house elves to go on strike," Ron replied, snickering.
Ginny sat down beside her brother, frowning slightly, "I don't think it's funny. I mean, Hermione has a point, they are treated badly."
Ron reached out and felt her forehead. "Well, you're not running a fever...Ginny, did Hermione put you under the Imperius Curse so you'd come in here and say that?"
"Oh, come off it. And stop touching me," He smirked at her response, but did as he was told.
"Hey, Ginny, d'you have a fate line?" She looked up at Harry, blinking slightly.
"Er...'fate line'?"
"Yeah, we were learning about them in palmistry."
"She probably doesn't, Harry. I bet you're the only one in the whole school who does."
"Thanks, Ron. No. Really. Thanks."
"I do what I can."
"And anyway...I asked Ginny."
Her voice had caught in her throat. "I...er...I..."
"Let me see your palm, it'll be a bit of research for class." All she could do was nod lightly and offer her right hand. He turned it over, cupping one hand under it, and lightly traced a prominent line from her wrist to just below her ring finger.
Ron coughed slightly, shooting Harry an indignant look as if to say 'You're touching my sister's hand. STOP WHILE YOU'RE AHEAD.'
How a simple expression and a fake cough can say all of this, we may never know.
Harry ignored this, of course, his concentration still fixed on Ginny's hand.
Ginny had to make a mental note, every second his hand was even close to hers, not to blush or dip her arm in the butterdish.
"Well, can't unfog the future from a simple line," Harry said, smiling lightly. And his hands had slipped away from her own. Somewhere in her swimming head, she wondered if he'd hesitated from doing so just a little bit.
Just then, because the author has had enough of the fluff and can second-guess that the reader has as well, Hermione stormed in, panting lightly. She caught herself on the table before she fell into it with full-force.
"What? Pass another test and come to gloat?"
"Shut...it...you...bloody...prat," She gasped. "The...elves...they've...gone...on..strike!"
Ron fell over.
*
Draco Malfoy detested Harry Potter.
With every fiber of his being he loathed, dispised, and utterly hated Potter. He greatly looked forward to the day of his downfall, which would mark the end of all hope for all Witches and Wizards who worked constantly against Lord Voldemort.
And you thought he had inner-depths, you did. Hah.
Besides his hate for Potter, it had also grown into more of a 'Anything-You-Can-Do-I-Can-Do-Better' than a 'rivalry.'
And Draco knew one thing that he could do, and do very well, quite frankly.
He could charm girls, of course. Get your mind out of the gutter, man. They went for his pale complexion, and the 'bad-boy-hate-to-love-me' thing he had going. And all females in his house simply fawned over his 'startlingly blue-gray eyes.' So, he had no trouble with competing with Potter in that aspect.
But then again...
He watched Harry and Ginny being so unbearably flirtatious with one another from his seat at the Slytherin table.
It sickened him.
He had to put a stop to it, simply had to.
After all, he could do anything better than Potter could. Why should this have been any different?
-
A/N 2: DUNDUNDUUUUN! Will Draco try for Ginny? Duh. Will there be hilarity? Kuhduh. Will there be romance? Kerduh. Will there be mystery? No duh. STAY TUNED, PEOPLE!
WARNING!: H/G may rot the brain.
Disclaimer: None belongs to me! The idea for the unneeded fluff idea belongs to the story 'Palmistry' which can be found on sugarquill.net, and the rest of the writing belongs to me, so...lemme alone -.-
Chapter Two
Palmistry
Thursday, for Harry Potter and his assortment of friends, went by without much bother. Now that he knew what the 'big weekend event' was, he needn't be worried.
That much.
Okay, so he was worried. His acting skills, as far as he knew, were not that good, if they even existed.
But Friday brought a new worry along to his already buzzing brain: What if Draco and Ginny had to...kiss?
He couldn't help but shudder at the very thought. But why was he shuddering? Ginny was a friend of his. Nothing more, nothing less. And he could explain, easily, in an instant, that he wasn't attracted to her in any way.
But then again, he always felt nice when she laughed at something he said, or blushed and muttered 'thank you' when ever he complimented her off the top of his head, and he had taken the time to notice that she was getting prettier and prettier every day, making even the likes of Cho Chang pale in comparision.
But that didn't mean, necessarily, that Harry Potter was attracted to Ginny Weasley.
Pshaw.
He looked down at his schedule, almost forgetting where he was going. Next was...a light groan escaped his lips. Divinations. Why was it always Divinations? That or Potions.
But they wouldn't be taking that any time soon, for Snape, apparently, was enraged with the pink Princess costumes in his dungeons.
He climbed up the ladder almost absent-mindedly, and only when his head swam in vanilla again did he come to his senses, mainly because he needed to if he wanted to stay awake. He stumbled to his seat beside Ron, who he had been walking with earlier, and then Ron had mysteriously disappeared somewhere.
"Where'd you go, then?" Harry asked, curiousity seeping through his sleepy tone.
"Nowhere," Ron snapped immediately. Harry arched a brow, shook his head, and looked forward just in time to see someone who looked oddly like one big glimmer.
Professor Trelawny had entered the building, and you have no idea how much Harry wanted her to leave it.
"Tooo-day, my young scholars, we shall learn the mystical and an-ch-ient art of palm-est-ry..."
The accent marks were needed, sorry. There'll be no more of those, okay? Okay.
"...We will be reasearching the lines of the hand, and what they mean. For instance, perhaps the most prominent and telling, the line...of fate. First, palms up, with your dominate hand only, everybody...yes, that's what I like to see...now, don't feel ashamed if you do not have a fate line, for they are rare. It should start just above the wrist and go straight, but do not fear if it goes off course, it does not always mean danger...now, raise your hand if you have located your fate line."
Something about the way she'd said 'fate' made a shudder run up Harry's spine. And usually, he'd be turning his snorts into coughs by now. He examined his hand. Of course, he had a line, as clear as the sky is blue.
A memory came floating back to him. Ron had once told Harry that "If it was rare, he had one," and to tell the truth he was beginning to think Ron was right.
He raised his hand. It was a death-wish.
"Well, Mr. Potter, it seems you are the only one who has raised their hands...let's inspect it, shall we?"
Again: Death. Wish.
"Actually, I'd rather not---"
"No use arguing, Mr. Potter. Show me your palm, please."
He sighed lightly, and offered her his palm. She examined it for a moment, and pulled away, with a dramatic gasp.
"Mr. Potter...your fate line has very many other lines intercepting it...it's as straight as an arrow, and I've never seen one so clear...but it ends, Mr. Potter, it ends...right about..." Her long nail dragged along his skin, scratching it slightly. "...It stops right about here." She pointed to the end of his line, and it had been intercepted by another line.
Ron fought back laughter.
"Mr. Potter, you are fated...fated for death." Lavender and Parvati squealed excitedly and Trelawny marched regally back to the front of the class.
Harry shook his head slightly, and decided that it was all a load of dung.
Except...his fate line. Something about it made him shudder and wonder why he'd never noticed it before.
Something also made him think that this Murder Mystery Weekend thing was going to be bigger than anyone had ever thought.
"Ugh...the pumpkin juice is all watered down..."
"Ron, do you always have to begin every convorsation with 'ugh'?" Harry asked, raising a brow at Ron.
"Shut it, Potter," He chewed his food thoughtfully. "And the food...tastes like rubber."
"It does not---oh, it does. Wonder why?"
"Maybe Hermione finally got the house elves to go on strike," Ron replied, snickering.
Ginny sat down beside her brother, frowning slightly, "I don't think it's funny. I mean, Hermione has a point, they are treated badly."
Ron reached out and felt her forehead. "Well, you're not running a fever...Ginny, did Hermione put you under the Imperius Curse so you'd come in here and say that?"
"Oh, come off it. And stop touching me," He smirked at her response, but did as he was told.
"Hey, Ginny, d'you have a fate line?" She looked up at Harry, blinking slightly.
"Er...'fate line'?"
"Yeah, we were learning about them in palmistry."
"She probably doesn't, Harry. I bet you're the only one in the whole school who does."
"Thanks, Ron. No. Really. Thanks."
"I do what I can."
"And anyway...I asked Ginny."
Her voice had caught in her throat. "I...er...I..."
"Let me see your palm, it'll be a bit of research for class." All she could do was nod lightly and offer her right hand. He turned it over, cupping one hand under it, and lightly traced a prominent line from her wrist to just below her ring finger.
Ron coughed slightly, shooting Harry an indignant look as if to say 'You're touching my sister's hand. STOP WHILE YOU'RE AHEAD.'
How a simple expression and a fake cough can say all of this, we may never know.
Harry ignored this, of course, his concentration still fixed on Ginny's hand.
Ginny had to make a mental note, every second his hand was even close to hers, not to blush or dip her arm in the butterdish.
"Well, can't unfog the future from a simple line," Harry said, smiling lightly. And his hands had slipped away from her own. Somewhere in her swimming head, she wondered if he'd hesitated from doing so just a little bit.
Just then, because the author has had enough of the fluff and can second-guess that the reader has as well, Hermione stormed in, panting lightly. She caught herself on the table before she fell into it with full-force.
"What? Pass another test and come to gloat?"
"Shut...it...you...bloody...prat," She gasped. "The...elves...they've...gone...on..strike!"
Ron fell over.
With every fiber of his being he loathed, dispised, and utterly hated Potter. He greatly looked forward to the day of his downfall, which would mark the end of all hope for all Witches and Wizards who worked constantly against Lord Voldemort.
And you thought he had inner-depths, you did. Hah.
Besides his hate for Potter, it had also grown into more of a 'Anything-You-Can-Do-I-Can-Do-Better' than a 'rivalry.'
And Draco knew one thing that he could do, and do very well, quite frankly.
He could charm girls, of course. Get your mind out of the gutter, man. They went for his pale complexion, and the 'bad-boy-hate-to-love-me' thing he had going. And all females in his house simply fawned over his 'startlingly blue-gray eyes.' So, he had no trouble with competing with Potter in that aspect.
But then again...
He watched Harry and Ginny being so unbearably flirtatious with one another from his seat at the Slytherin table.
It sickened him.
He had to put a stop to it, simply had to.
After all, he could do anything better than Potter could. Why should this have been any different?
-
A/N 2: DUNDUNDUUUUN! Will Draco try for Ginny? Duh. Will there be hilarity? Kuhduh. Will there be romance? Kerduh. Will there be mystery? No duh. STAY TUNED, PEOPLE!