Disclaimer: Not one tiny shred of the basic plot/characters/etc. is mine. OK? Are you happy now?
(Note: Bits in italics are dreams, *asterisks are thoughts* and #hashes are song lyrics, singing, etc.#)
Chapter 6: What The Hell Was That?
To recap: Without waiting for a response, [McGonagall] leaned over and kissed him.
It was only a quick peck on the cheek.
"Harry lad, my wee little Harry," she said sadly. Then she leaned over and kissed him.
This time PROPERLY!
It was amazing. Fireworks exploded in Harry's head, his hands went in her hair, on her arms… it was the most splendid thing he'd experienced in ages. But she was struggling. Harry realized he had been delusional.
He had pulled her towards him! He was going to get expelled! He let go, and she stared, wild-eyed, down at him lying on the bed. Her hair was all skew-whiff and her glasses were on the verge of dropping off her nose. She looked as if she was going to cry.
"I'm sorry, Harry," she said. "I'll have to report this."
She breezed out of the room (using her wand to tidy herself up) as Harry sat up in bed. Reaching for his glasses, he ran after her.
"PROFESSOR! WAIT! PLEASE!"
Unfortunately, it was about midday, so the common room was full. The whole house heard him scream after her. The whole house saw him throw himself at her feet.
And the whole house saw her swat him angrily away, saying, "You! You despicable little boy! HOW COULD YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT DOING THAT?! You have ruined my LIFE, good day to you." The whole house stared as she ran out and Harry recovered his composure on the floor. In the struggle, he had grabbed one of her shoes and a sock. Oops.
Ron was the first to recover. "Harry?" He knelt beside him and helped him up. He practically lifted him up the stairs to the boy's dormitory, and sat him back down on the bed. Hermione followed, looking pale.
"Harry, what was that? Did you… you know…" Ron grinned wickedly.
"NO! God, no. But…"
"But what?"
"I kissed her." He lowered his head to avoid Ron and Hermione's eyes, but he could still hear their gasps. He could just picture it – Hermione trying not to cry in despair, and Ron going pale and opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish. He looked up and saw they were both looking strange… they looked haunted. He then felt so guilty, and realized what pain he had inflicted on him. Yes, Harry Potter can have deep and meaningful thoughts.
"Harry. She said – she was going to report it? That's – pure – sense, in a way, but evil." Hermione sighed and Ron put his arms round her. "What are you going to do? What about the plan?" she said, still holding Ron.
"Hide. I will use my invisibility cloak to hide away from the world until I finish my NEWTS."
"Harry…"
"No. That is my plan. And I am sticking to it. Look, Hermy, I am desperate now. I need a plan that will see me out of school."
Later that night, he tucked the shoe and sock under his pillow, and placed his head upon it, with a sigh of despair and longing. "Minerva," he breathed. "What have I done to deserve this?"
At about two in the morning, he had another dream.
A lonely castle on a windswept moor. McGonagall was riding bareback on a black stallion. She reached the gates, and knocked.
"Who goes there?" came Dumbledore's voice.
"Tis I, Minerva McGonagall, head of Gryffindor and love object of the famous Harry Potter."
"Prithee? Good. Do come in, oh fair maiden."
The gates opened, and she rode in. She dismounted her horse and stepped into the vast foyer. She gazed around at the red and purple velvet that draped the walls. Dumbledore came out and with a pervy smile took off her coat. He was in a glorious golden gown and was very well toned up. His shoes were silver and red. His beard gleamed in the half-light…
Unbeknown to them, Harry was hiding behind a curtain and could see everything. He saw Dumbledore lead her to the dining room, so he followed. He watched her sit on a miniature throne studded with gold and platinum buttons at a mahogany table. He found a hiding place behind the door under an end table and gasped.
The food was amazing. There was a turkey, a chicken, a whole cow, a whole lamb, broccoli, mushroom God, I love mushrooms, marrow, lobster, minestrone soup, tomato soup, peas, chickpeas, salmon, French bread, English bread, peppers, watermelon, gooseberries, blueberries, carrot, cabbage, pasta, pizza, rice, and haggis of course! There were also some strange looking vegetables that had been mutated from Muggle ones…
"Tuck in, Minnie love."
Harry watched aghast as she ate through the whole feast. He looked at his watch. She started at two… he looked again – three. He looked again – five. And by now she was only halfway through.
By eleven o' clock she had eaten the last bite. She had not gained any weight and nor did she seem full. But she was happy – so happy. He could see it in her eyes.
Then they were transported in a whirl of pink and red and black to a run-down country cottage. McGonagall walked up to the rusty door and knocked.
Harry shouted, "Come in, you tramp."
She walked in and gazed in disgust at the threadbare walls, and the worn carpet. Harry was old and fat, and dressed in fading denim dungarees and a red t-shirt. He had no shoes. His hair was greasy, as was his face. His glasses were held together with Sello-tapeTM.
He led her through the house to a small brown room with an even smaller wooden table. There was once loaf of bread and some stale butter. The chair cracked dangerously as she sat down on it.
"Tuck in, Minnie love," he said.
Within half an hour she was done. And she looked so unhappy.
He drifted awake. He remembered his dream, and thought about what it might mean.
It meant that she could never be happy with him. She needed Dumbledore.
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Fear not, my fanficcy friends! There is more – much more – to come.
Next chapter promises to be more interesting.
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