Disclaimer: Yadda yadda yadda. You all know the drill. I don't own HP, I'm getting no money for this, JKR is the goddess of the HP world…etc, etc, etc. =P =)
Just Another Valentine's Day
It was that time of year again. Snow swirled around the castle, covering it in a glistening blanket of cold. Inside, hearts of every kind and color covered the walls and decorated doorways. Delicate cupid fairies flitted past giggling portraits and serenading suits of armour. Flowers were everywhere, being sent, received, and whispered over, their scent filling the air, combining to produce an overpowering aroma of…infatuation. Everyone seemed love-struck, intoxicated with sudden, random gushes of passion for members of (mostly) the opposite sex. Even the Slytherins seemed to have been affected by the atmosphere, having disturbingly refocused their attention on…er…other things. The number of students requesting love potions had left Snape in a shocking state of disarray and disgust, causing him to lash out and take points off for sighs and sly grins. There was no doubt about it…it was almost Valentine's Day.
The fire popped, startling her out of her thoughts. She looked around the darkening common room—still empty. Everyone was probably still at dinner, chattering about who sent what and which new couples had emerged that day. Stupid, all of it! Why did anyone care? Why couldn't everyone just mind their own business? It was just a bloody holiday…
Right. It's just a holiday. Relax. It's just one week of humiliation, culminating in one final day, the Day of Judgment. The day you found out if you had it or not, if you were attractive or not. And every year, it had been the same. Nicole and Lynnith were showered with gifts, candies and flowers from their numerous admirers, while Claire's steady boyfriend was sweet and attentive, planning romantic surprises and candlelit dinners in the moonlight. Sierra had just gone through another nasty, melodramatic break up with a Ravenclaw and was still in "all men are pigs" mode. Then, of course, there was her. Everyone's little sister, everyone's tomboyish pal. At first it was no big deal—she dreamed only of those emerald eyes; it was only a matter of time until they saw her. But when Harry had started dating Alyssa, a Ravenclaw, she lost hope. There was no way she could compete with her—Alyssa played Quidditch, she was funny, pretty, smart… she sighed. That's how it was with pretty much every guy she knew. She'd dated Michael for a bit…But that didn't work out. Then she and Dean were together for a while…until he went to Barbados with some of the guys for summer hols and met another girl. He'd felt terrible, but it was 'true love' and all that. Whatever. Then there was Timothy, from Hufflepuff. He was sweet, but shy—apparently he'd had a crush on her for a while and finally got up the nerve to ask her to the Midsummer Night's Dance. They'd been together about two weeks when he decided he couldn't handle her—she was great and all, but there was another, less dominant girl in his own house who seemed to have blossomed overnight. She'd been angry, but it was no use. He was happy now, and she was happy for him. Sort of.
A voice echoed in the hall—she turned and, hearing the password, stood up and began to make her way to her room. The last thing she wanted was to face a barrage of questions about why she hadn't been at dinner and had she heard blah blah blah…
"Ginny!" Lavender squealed as she climbed in through the portrait hole. Great. For some reason, last year Lavender had decided to take her under her wing, treat her as a sort of protogé. Before she was able to escape to the fifth year girls' dorm, she was cornered.
"Why didn't you go to dinner?? Are you not eating? OOOOH a DIET! How exciting! You don't need to lose weight though, Ginny, you'll lose your boobs! When I decided to stop eating to lose a couple of centimeters….." Ginny rolled her eyes. WHY? WHY me?? She stared blankly over her friend's shoulder, completely tuning out her rant on the blouse she couldn't wear when she lost too much weight. The common room was filling up quickly; Dean came in and plopped down on the sofa, smitten bliss all over his face. The portrait opened again—her heart quickened as she recognized his rugged handsomeness. Surprisingly enough, he was alone, face flushed with cold. He pulled off his scarf and hat as he approached the growing group of guys gathered around the fireplace. He was wearing that black turtleneck sweater—the one that showed off his powerful build…she gulped as she imagined the smooth, strong body underneath…his warmth, his embrace……
"Ginny, are you listening to me??" Lavender's voice pierced through her daydreams.
"Of course…" She answered, praying her friend wouldn't ask her to prove it. She didn't—apparently satisfied, she began to rant and rave once again. "Did you hear what Colin did for that Hufflepuff girl?? Honestly, she's so pudgy, but he's not exactly…." She was lost again. He was laughing—someone had just finished doing an imitation of Malfoy sucking up to Snape. A strand of sandy brown hair fell into his eyes and she felt the urge to approach him and brush it away. HAH—could you imagine?? Just walk over there and brush it out of his eyes—maybe kiss him and run up to my room…she grinned. Then, of course, he'd climb the banister and follow after her to confess his undying love and devotion to her and their happiness. Like that would happen…she snorted at her own girlishness.
Apparently Lavender took this to mean she disagreed with whatever comment she'd just made and immediately began badgering her with point after point on the subject, whatever that was. Loud cheers and catcalls echoed through the common room as Ron climbed through the portrait-hole, hair disheveled, lipstick smeared on his face, grinning impishly. It was fifteen minutes past curfew—Hermione would be outraged if she knew, but she'd come in with Lavender and climbed up to her dorm five minutes later. Ginny sighed as she watched the boys go up to their rooms one by one. Harry and Ron grinned at her as they climbed the stairs, nodding in sympathy as they watched Lavender chatter on mindlessly. Finally only he was left, sitting comfortably in the cushy chair by the fire. Vaguely wishing she was there, cuddled up beside him, she suddenly realized how tired she was, and how much her body ached from having stood so long.
"Listen, Lav, I'm really wiped, so I'm gonna go to bed, alright?" she interrupted. Slightly affronted that Ginny wasn't completely scandalized by the horrible combination of stripes and plaids she'd witnessed the other day, Lavender nodded. She turned and, seeing the lone figure in front of the fire, a thought struck her. A small smile spread across her face and she replied,
"Yeah….oh look at the time!! It's late!! I need at least 11 hours of beauty sleep…" She quickly hugged her friend goodnight and tried to go as casually yet quickly as possible to her room. Whatever that was…Ginny shook her head. Casting one last glance at his strong profile in the flickering firelight, she turned to go upstairs.
"…Ginny?" He whispered. Heart racing, she turned to see him standing up. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. He approached her, his eyes dark. She'd never seen him so nervous, she thought, as he gulped, searching for the right words. He was so close now that she could smell his warm, spicy cologne—it was all she could do to maintain her composure and not melt into a puddle at his feet. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but quickly closed it again, a deep blush creeping up his face. After moments of awkward silence, he looked up at her, and frustrated with himself, finally spit out,
"Doyowanagotohogzmedwthme?" The earnestness in his eyes made her feel terrible for not having understood.
"....What?" she asked.
"...Does...does...er...Does Lavender have a boyfriend?" He repeated, looking down at his feet. Her heart dropped like lead and her throat closed up—of course he didn't want her, he wanted Lavender. He'd been waiting for Ginny to leave so he could catch her alone. Trying to keep her voice calm and steady, she quietly replied,
"No."
"Oh…uh…alright." He looked down at the floor again before muttering a quiet goodnight. She watched his form as he retreated into the shadows, a cold creeping up inside her stomach. She should have known—it was the same story as always. Hearing his door gently click shut, she turned and climbed her own stairs, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall into the night.
The moral of the story: Don't chicken out. =PPPP Mwahaha! Don't get it? Reread what he asked her the first time—What he REALLY asked her!
Mwahaha! I'll consider maybe writing a sequel at some point...if you really want one. I've just moved…I'm now in the USA, and starting college in August. O.o!! =)