Clichés
by me (Phillippa)
Please forgive me for neglecting this story! I have been so . . . neglectful! I am ashamed. I like how this turned out a lot. Especially Parvati's narration.
Thanks to my reviewers . . .
Black Petalzzz (NO! Don't throw away the rubber ducks! I would have . . . rubber blood on my hands! Oh! the guilt!)
slytheringurl-050614
Bea
S.S.Pan
Little Eirtae (sorry, but Draco does not carry her off into the forest. He really wanted to, but I didn't let him)
darkmonkey
Em Crosthwaite
Miss Piratess (so really. . .shouldI stick to fairy tales or was this not so bad?)
hufflepuffgirl88
malista
american-born-confused-desi
Disclaimer -- I do not have: the rights to Harry Potter, any athletic ability, the Moulin Rouge soundtrack I want SO MUCH, or my own tropical flower garden. Which is a bummer, because I could do with some athletic ability. Truly.
chapter three (the end)
part one (harry)
The chessboard was set, but Ron was far too busy to play. "Awfully sorry, Harry, but you know Hermione. She'll skin me alive if she finds out I haven't done my part in the research."
"Yeah, I know," I sighed. The black queen gave me a scornful look as Ron scurried off to the library. "You heard him. He can't play, and no one else will." I groaned. I was talking to a chess piece. As if I wasn't all ready convinced I was going mental.
"I'll play with you, Harry," Ginny said, suddenly appearing in the Common Room. "I'm not as good as Ron, but no one is."
"Oh. . . Ginny. Hi." I felt stupid. I always felt stupid around Ginny now, and I could never find the right words to say. I felt myself heating up.
"Unless you don't want to," Ginny blurted. "I mean, we don't have to. I just thought, since Ron couldn't --"
"No," I said suddenly. Ginny looked confused, about to move but hesitating. "I mean, yes. Let's play." I sat down. She sat down. We smiled at each other and the nervousness left me.
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Even after getting seriously trounced, I didn't want Ginny to leave. "Another game?" I suggested as the pieces righted themselves and put themselves back together.
"I don't know, Harry. I've got some Potions homework to do that I haven't even started on yet . . ."
"Oh, okay, then, Gin. I'm fine with that," I said. After all, even if I was going to go to Hogsmeade with her, I didn't want to seem -- well, desperate.
"Maybe -- tomorrow, you reckon?" Ginny asked half-heartedly as she stood up.
"Maybe," I said, motioning for the pieces to pack themselves into the box. I know it's going to sound like I'm mental, but I swear the black queen winked at me, like she was encouraging me to say something else to Ginny.
Ginny was slowly taking her materials out of her bag, her back facing me. I felt lousy. Even if I had asked her out, I still felt like it wasn't enough. What more could I do?
"Gin?" I said cautiously.
"What?" Her voice was -- funny, almost like she was crying or something -- oh, I was a lousy boyfriend! Er -- sort of boyfriend.
"Ginny, I promise we'll play chess tomorrow." She turned around, and I noticed she wasn't crying. "Or -- or do something else if you like. Quidditch?"
"Oh, Harry. I don't care what we do, I just want to feel like -- like we're friends, too."
I reached out and held her hand. "Not just friends, Ginny." She smiled a little then, and I knew everything was okay.
part two (parvati)
Okay, I know this sounds, like, gossipy, but I've always been able to tell my secrets. Like, I didn't care if everyone knew I liked some guy. Or like, if I failed a DADA test or something. You know?
So it's weird to have, like, a secret. Like, I'm betraying Padma and Lavender somehow. But, like, this one's different. Way different. 'Cause, like, when it was Dean or someone like that, I could, like, care less if he knew. Besides, like, that was just, like, a crush -- nothing really, like, important or anything.
I like Ron Weasley. Like, a lot. Like, too much.
It all started, like, in fourth year at the Yule Ball. I know he, like, didn't have really cool dress robes or anything, but suddenly -- it was like I got hit with, like, Cupid's arrow or something. POW!
A couple days after, Padma and Lavender were all, like, making fun of him, like, his old robes and all, and I forced myself to laugh. But inside, I was, like, "Don't you talk about him that way!" That's when I knew it wasn't, like, a normal crush. 'Cause I, like, cared about him instead of just, like, liking him.
I know. It sounds dumb. But it's, like, the truth. I didn't tell a soul. It was, like, serious all of a sudden if anyone, like, knew. Padma thought it was Harry that I liked. Ha! Everyone's, like, at some point, liked him. But not me.
But did I, like, try to correct her or anything? No. I just let her make her little, like, match-making plans. And look where that got me! Like, on a date. With his best mate. (I should tell Lavender I've finally found my, like, inner poet or whatever.)
It was, like, pure torture, and I'm not kidding or anything. I ended up botching that one, like, really bad. But, still, I was, like, there is no way I'm gonna tell his mate that I like him! That's, like, way worse than telling Padma or Lavender. So, meanwhile, I, like, suffer while he doesn't even notice me.
But, like, not for long. Lavender's been looking, like, not too hot lately. I can, like, convince her she should stay from classes rather easily. Then, in, like, Potions, where we always work in groups, I can, like, get Ron to come work with me. But how? I've got to, like, talk to him. Make sure we're, like, kind of like mates. Then, he won't be all like "Why would I sit with Parvati?" or anything. He's not in, like, the Common Room. I'll bet he's, like, in the library. Like, off to the library I go!
part three (draco)
Why is it always Potions class? Why, I ask you! Nothing used to happen there, save Snape having some fun with Gryffindor points. Now it seems that everything is doomed to happen there!
Okay -- so I like pressure. Always wait to the last day to study or right a long paper. Don't practice the day before a Quidditch match. Some might call me lazy or a procrastinator (now that I think of it, many do, especially adults) but that's not it. I just really like pressure.
So, it's Friday, only one day and no more chances to go with her to Hogsmeade until next year -- when she'll probably be Head Girl and become more bossy than she all ready is. This is it, Draco. Prepare yourself.
I watch her as she comes in with them, purposely not looking in my direction. They start to sit down, only Weasley's looking at another Gryffindor girl, P-something, the one with the twin sister. She's sitting alone, because (presumably) whomever she sits with is sick. And she's motioning for Weasley to come and sit with her . . . and he does!
Well, this is certainly a development.
Potter and Hermione end up sitting right ahead of Goyle and me. She looks back at me, a fleeting glance. I grin a small and (hopefully) malevolent grin. Hermione turns around quickly. Meanwhile, Snape is directing everyone to come and get the supplies. I don't even have to look at Goyle, he knows it's his job. With the unfailing Malfoy luck, Potter gets up to get the ingredients as well!
My heartbeat is a lot faster than it usually is. I have officially gone mental. I am excited about being sort of alone with her.
Prepare yourself for disappointment, Draco. She'll just say no like every other time. Wait . . . is she smiling? Just a little? Malfoy luck, don't fail me now!
"Hermione, will you go to Hogsmeade with me?" Weird. I was all set to demand that she come, and it came out wimpy, in a question. Like it's her decision! Okay, so it is, but come on. We've got the Malfoy image to keep up here. Not that dating a muggle-born brainiac doesn't completely mar the Malfoy image all ready.
She is turning around to face me! She's smiling at me! You're getting your hopes up, Draco, she's only doing it so she can rub her 'no' in your face. Oh, please say yes! Malfoy luck, Malfoy luck, Malfoy luck --
"Yes."
May I quote? Thank you.
"That's all, folks. Draw your own conclusions." And no amount of begging will coax me into a sequel. Yes, you'll all murder me for it, but I like it better this way. And after all, I am the writer.
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