Dancing

Chapter 3

In which Ginny starts to hallucinate (?) and watches a Quidditch game.

Disclaimer:  (Insert inane does-not-belong-to-me drivel, I'm sure you've heard it enough times to be able to make it up for yourself.  I'm not getting rich enough to do it for you ;)   )

Sorry it's a little short.  Unfortunately I didn't have the foresight to finish the story before I started posting, so I'm running into a bit of writers block.  If you have any ideas, please, PLEASE leave them in your reviews.  Which at this point are inevitable.  Right?...RIGHT???

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                Frustration and –guilt, surprisingly- punctuated Ginny's thoughts for the next weeks.  Mornings, meals, evenings entailed unavoidable contact.  Jason showed up in hallways, conversations, and trains of thought everywhere Ginny went.  She started to try to avoid the hallway that housed trophies and awards on the second floor so as not to see his name on the gleaming brass there.  She would walk by the Gryffindor common room's unofficial event board/community photo album and flick a glance to his grinning photo there, then mentally kick herself for it as soon as she passed. 

                Ginny became convinced that either he was following her around, or she was becoming paranoid and prone to hallucinations.  He would sit across from her in the common room, talking loudly with, well, anyone, and her eyes would follow the lines she was reading blindly, her brain focused on every word out of his mouth.

                She even began to think he did the same, sitting and staring into the fire as she played wizard's chess or Exploding Snap with her friends on the floor right behind him.  She began to notice his eye contact.  They would hold gazes for a second, two, maybe, when they passed each other, encountered each other in the common room.

                With awareness came doubt, fear.  Hope.  What if he notices me? Sees me everywhere?  Remembers my laugh, my hand on his? Does he imagine…

                It was at this point that Ginny always arrested her thoughts, locked them up without bail.

December crept up on Hogwarts without warning, covering the colorful Forbidden Forest with a blanket of chill.  The ceiling of the Great Hall, normally depicting a clear and crisp, sky turned turbulent and cloudy.  Despite the gloomy weather and encroaching darkness, Gryffindor was set to play Ravenclaw in an evening match.  Dinner was early, a thick potato soup and steaming crusty rolls.  Jason, Harry, Ron, and the rest of the team ate in tense silence.  The rest of the table was equally tense.  Even the chattiest of the Gryffindors seemed to cower, intimidated by the screaming silence.  This game was especially important to them.  It was their second game, but Ravenclaws third.  They had already beaten Hufflepuff and Slytherin earlier in the year.  To win the Quidditch Cup, it was essential Gryffindor won this game against their rather formidable opponents.  As the captain of the team, Jason was undoubtedly feeling tremendous pressure to make his team perform flawlessly.  Ginny watched him from under her eyelashes, counting the number of times per minute his jaw clenched.

As if they were all puppets on the same string, the team suddenly rose from the table to head to the change rooms.

On impulse, Ginny called, "Hey! Wait!"  Three team members paused and turned around.  Eyes fixed on the team's captain, she added, "Good luck," before flicking her eyes back to her brother and friend.  They gave terse nods, and followed Jason out of the Great Hall.

***

Hermione was busy treating everyone in the stadium to snow-repelling charms when Ginny wove her way through quivering Gryffindors to join her friends. 

                After shooting a blue jet of warm light at the younger redhead, Hermione patted the bench beside her in invitation.  Ginny sat, but was mostly oblivious to Hermione's cheerful but rather inane chatter.  She watched the Gryffindor team huddled below on the pitch, their red robes only barely visible through blowing snow.  They broke the huddle and arranged themselves irregularly on their side of the itch.  The Ravenclaws, already shivering in their blue robes, similarly formed on the opposite side. 

                "…don't you think?"

                "Hmmm?...sorry,"

                "Don't you think the teams would really benefit from a grand Umbrella Charm over the pitch?"

                "Oh…yeah, sure."

                A whistle blew, and fifteen brooms rose, straining, into the turbulent air to play.

                After an hour, the Chasers were so numb and exhausted they could barely hold the Quaffle.  The Beaters were frequently hitting abnormally large snowflakes instead of Bludgers, and Ron had nearly reduced himself to burning the goalposts for warmth. 

                Madame Hooch's whistle blew again, and the teams descended to the whitened turf to rest and recuperate in a ten-minute time out.

                Hermione stood and motioned Ginny to follow her.  They moved quickly through the icy crowd, down the stadium's wooden staircase and onto the pitch.

                Hermione quickly renewed the players' snow-repelling charms and conjured an iron stove and steaming kettle. Adding cups to the set-up with a wave of her wand, she then busied herself pouring tea as Ginny started handing the steaming mugs to the players.  Most took theirs without comment, stamping their feet and attempting to discuss strategy.  Their scarves blew like sodden wooly flags in front of them, and their robes whipped in the cold wind.  Holding one last mug out to Jason, Ginny flushed slightly as his bare fingers brushed against her mittened ones.  He caught her eye and gave a tiny nod of thanks before turning back to his team.

                Hermione and Ginny made it back to their seats just in time to hear Madame Hooch's whistle and see the players rise again into the swirling sky.

                Barely five minutes later, the whistle sounded again.  Her magically-amplified voice cut through the wind.  "Harry Potter has caught the Snitch! Gryffindor win, 240 points to 90!"

                A halfhearted cheer rose from the red and gold section of the crowd before the mad rush for the castle, and warmth, began.

                The Gryffindor common room was full of people.  Dancing shadows flickered on the stone walls from the huge fire blazing in the hearth. Cloaks and robes shed, most people were now in their pajamas, celebrating Gryffindors second straight win of the year.  Ginny was staring into the fire, hugging her knees to her chest.  Her trademark Weasley jumper, in blue, stretched at the sleeves to cover her hands, and crept up to her chin, turtleneck-style.  She felt very small and insignificant in the room full of noise and celebration.

                Someone, probably a member or two of the team, had produced triumphantly a case of butterbeer, which was being passed around among the older house members.  She recognized Colin's voice rising above the rest.  "A toast!" This was encouraged by a general roar from the partiers, so loud it made Ginny want to bury her head somewhere warm and dark and silent.  "A toast to Harry Potter and the Gryff lion pride!" Another, louder roar this time, accompanied by the clink or many bottles.

                Ginny could hear, feel Jason behind her and to the left, laughing and talking with a group of seventh-years.  She could picture his smile, the way he held his head when he laughed, and how he furrowed his brow when concentrating.  She closed her eyes, rediscovering what she didn't want to know.  Why am I so bloody obsessed? We danced, what, twice?  I've danced with people before…

                Rising stiffly from her curled-up position on the hearth, Ginny quickly found her older brother among the reveling teens.  "Congratulations on the win; tell Harry too when you see him…"

                Leaving the party behind her, Ginny climbed the stairs to her dorm, where, exhausted and worn out, she collapsed on to her bed, gathering just enough energy to draw the curtains around her before drifting, melancholic, to sleep.

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ARGG!!

Although I may like this story on the whole so far, I'm not too impressed with this chappie.  Oh, well.  What can you do when it's midnight and freezing?  Anyway, review please, as always.  I'd really like that kind of constructive criticism everyone always talks about.  Might help a little, chain my story back to the gritty grindstone of reality.  Or close to it, anyway,

This chapter goes out to Kim, who is under the impression my A/Ns are constructed solely to make her laugh.  *Sigh* She's right.

Buh-Byes!!