Chapter Six – I'm trying for longer chapters. In this chapter, THEY finally meet and then we'll have to see what happens, what I, the valiant writer, decides to do. And yes, I know this chapter's a bit funny, with the breakfast and sorts and the Quidditch stuff, but I'm too lazy to go re-write it, so bear with me and skip it if you want. Chapter Seven should be more along the lines of the book.
"Harry, you do remember tryouts are tomorrow, right?" Hermione said, peering from her book.
"Of course, Hermione, how the hell could I not forget?" Harry replied, burying his head in his toast.
"Aw, come off it, Harry. I'm sure you'll find a replacement for Wood. Somehow," said a bleary-eyed Ron, yawning into his eggs.
"I can't. Wood's…irreplaceable, don't you think?" responded Harry, picking the toast out of his hair.
"Tryouts are Tuesday, and its Monday," said Hermione, patting Harry on the back. "You've got loads of time to think about it with the rest of the team. And besides, who's going to be captain of the team this year?
"No, I suppose Dumbledore or McGonagall picks. Wouldn't that seem more practical than picking straws?"
Ron cleared his throat. "Harry? Where's your Pensive?" he said hastily, poking at his eggs.
"Up in the dormitory. Why?"
"Well, I was thinking…we could clear Siri—Snuffles' name if you spilled your thoughts…right?"
Hermione cut in, her book slamming shut. "Ron! How could you? No one's going to believe a bunch of fifth years trying to prove Snuffles innocent," she said.
"After what happened with Barty Crouch last term. You know—with Fudge and those—things."
"Harry's got the rest of the year to worry about that," Ron cut in again.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
They were walking towards Divinitation after lunch.
"Ugh, Trelawney, that old bag," groaned Ron. "Why do we have to have Divinitation right after lunch on Mondays? I could chuck from the fireplace stench," And Ron pretended to throw up, and it was done very dramatically. They ended up in fits of laughter. At the staircase to the North Tower, they parted and Hermione scuttled off to Arithmancy.
"Ah, my dears, so good is it to see you all in the physical world again," came the whispery voice of Professor Trelawney. Her bracelets clinked as she stepped over to the students. "Lavender, that summer love will fade within a week, for another shall take his place," she said sinking herself into her armchair. Lavender blushed and Parvati giggled madly.
"She's gone—"
"Harry Potter," Professor Trelawney said, placing her hand over her heart. "I sense a new fear in you. Mind, as those born into hot weather is likely to succumb easily."
Harry stared at her.
"Yes, Parvati?" Parvati was raising her hand.
"Those born under the planet Mercury are likely to withdraw often," she said, beaming.
"Thank you, Parvati. Oh, and don't open the letter tomorrow. Bubotuber pus is waiting."
Ron raised his hand. "When's Harry going to die this year, Professor? Any idea?"
Professor Trelawney gasped. "You sound amused at the idea that Harry Potter will die," she responded, her eyes closed. Lavender and Parvati leaned in closer to her, eager to listen.
"Ron…you prat…shut it," Harry said, punching him on the shoulder.
"What? She says it almost every year, so just ask her and get it over with, right?" Ron whispered to Harry.
"My dear, if you not be careful lest you jump too quickly, my words shall come in handy," Trelawney said opening her eyes.
"Right," said Ron, and rolled his eyes.
"Dean, dear, before you jump off my ladder today, would you re-tie the knots on the top of the ladder? Thank you, dear." Trelawney said.
"Rubbish," muttered Dean.
"And now, onto palmistry again. In our first year together, we didn't get very far, and now it's more advanced. The lines will have newer meaning. Read pages 333-340 to understand palm reading. A diagram of a palm is on page 518. Afterwards, practice palm reading with a partner and jot what you have read down."
"Palm reading? Is she going mad?" Harry muttered, flipping through his textbook.
"I know," Ron muttered back. "Mum doesn't believe that stuff. Says its wizard rubbish."
"Yeah, some Muggle ladies read palms and stuff…Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon nearly whopped Dudley after he'd been to one at a school carnival." Harry chuckled. "The old woman said that Dudley would be very successful and rich. Of course, Dudley wanted to hear more. So he waddled back home for more money to pay the old bag and Aunt Petunia locked him in the house."
Ron chewed his quill. "Heart lines? Life lines? What the hell is this stuff? I thought we covered this already. Wait, wait…oh, look, Harry, Reading Palms, Reading Minds: Chapter 17. Ugh."
"Right. Ron, give me your palm," Harry said nonchalantly.
"Ahh…" Harry said peering from his textbook. "You have a…kind spirit…and are…loyal…to…friends and family…life…is…overwhelming…for you," He pronounced, his eyebrows knitted.
"What? You've got to be kidding…kind spirit…bah." Ron muttered.
"Here, let me read yours." Harry put his hand and Ron studied it, with "hmms" and "oohs" and "ahhs" every now and then when he peered at his textbook.
"It says here that you've got a—a fragile balance…hah!" Ron laughed, his hand on his lap and tears rolling.
"What?!" Harry said. He grabbed the book and scanned the page…"You're right, Ron." The bell rang, and they gathered up their books, with Professor Trelawney voicing the homework.
THUD.
Dean had forgotten to secure the knots at the top of the ladder. "Told you so," came a misty voice. The class sniggered.
"The old bat probably rigged the ladder, Parvati," Ron assured, putting much emphasize on Parvati's name. She whispered hastily to Lavender, who then threw a furious glance Dean.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/
At dinner, Draco Malfoy finally opened the letter that his father had sent him this morning, along with the usual sweets and tarts from home, which he had opened in the morning. Crabbe and Goyle and Draco had scarfed them up during break in the common room.
"I hope he's seen that new broom prototype…I want it already. Won't Potter be surprised when I get that new Helios I. Eh, Goyle? Crabbe?"
Goyle lifted his head up from his plate, which he was leaning so close into you could barely measure an inch. "Yeah. How fast does it go again?"
"Think it was 289 miles per second, plus automatic brakes, diamond-hard polish, and its registration number stamped in platinum ink," said Malfoy rather smugly, a smirk lighting up his face. "Father promised he'd get me one of those for my birthday or Christmas, and along with that brand-new broomstick servicing kit. All that, plus all the stuff I usually get."
"Wow," whispered Goyle.
Draco Malfoy usually got about thirty Galleons spending money from his rich Grandmother, whom his father hated for keeping her will a secret…and money from his mother and father, loads of presents from them, sweets, and the works.
"You know, I think I'll go have a bloody walk…bloody pumpkin juice is getting to my head," Draco announced, getting up, hoping with all his might that Pansy would not notice his leaving the Great Hall. He joined the pack of weary sixth years trudging out of the hall. Breaking off from them as they approached and passed the exit. He ran out to the lake, breathing in fresh air, acknowledging that it had recently rained. The lake shimmered in the bright moonlight, and all around the lake, the trees and bank were all bathed in the moonlight. Draco shivered. It was cold, even thought he had this thick charcoal grey sweater on underneath his black school robes. He should have fetched his cloak from the Slytherin dorm before coming out here. He pulled out his silver pocketwatch from his pocket and examined it. Three-quarters past eight. Plenty of time, he thought. Rolling up his sleeves, he readied to have a little dip in the lake.
Trouble was, there was already someone there, her feet in the lake, humming merrily to herself.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/
Draco stopped cold. How was he supposed to think out here when there was an—an intruder in the quiet, placidness of the lake? He couldn't go back to dinner, he was not at all hungry. He couldn't go back to the Slytherin common room, Pansy and her ditzy gang would be there, the room cloaked in the musky smell of nail polish and the sound of pages being flipped while they browsed the latest Witch Weekly, all the while playing with each other's hair and rating the boys. And he couldn't go to the library, that was Ravenclaw and the Mudblood Granger's territory.
So he unrolled his sleeves, stuck his hands deep into his pockets and sat quietly, unnoticed on a cold, grey bench, damp from the rain. He was going to observe this girl at the lake until she got out of it, so he'd finally get some alone time.
She didn't budge after ten minutes. Her small clump of stuff beside her remained unmoved. Draco took the clump to be her cloak and shoes. So Draco shed his cloak, folded it and placed it on the wet bench, rolled up his sleeves and walked off in the girl's direction. Wouldn't her feet be prunes by now? Asked Draco to himself.
The girl at the lake tossed her hair from her face. The moonlight caught it and Draco could see the color.
"Bloody hell," Draco murmured. Sitting the lake bank, still humming merrily, was no other than Ginny Weasley.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
Author's Notes:
Did you all like it? I myself hate ¾ of this chapter, until Draco gets out onto the lake and sees our lovely Ginny. Now, heed, because many people have many different opinions as to what Draco and Ginny look like. I myself like them as they are and will appear in the third Harry Potter movie; Draco, sleek hair, no gelled-back helmet, and Ginny, pale, freckled, plain-looking, and bright red hair. But since they're older, you'll have to imagine Ginny [Bonnie Wright] a little taller and with longer hair. Yes, I am fully aware that I'm babbling, but it's all for sake of people not getting an idea of Draco with a killer six-pack and Ginny with an ample chest and ample behind, as I once made the mistake to read a fic with them described like that, only worse, in which Ginny's in tight short-shorts and a tank top from J.Lo and Draco's hair is "sexily gelled back, a little of it falling into his baby-blue eyes". PUR-LEAZE.
Chapter Seven will be different, I swear to you all. Why? Because it skips a year so I won't have to do so much work if I let it stay in 1995, i.e., OotP. So I hope you all liked it and please review. And flame all you bastards want about my contradiction of what some author described Draco and Ginny to be like. HELLO!! Stick to the books! Always stick to the books! Which is why I am half-against the commercialization of children's books, i.e., the Harry Potter movies.
