A/N: Ok, this may be the last chapter for two weeks, because I am going on two separate trips (neither of which was planned more than a month in advance). I should be back no later than the 25th. However, I may be able to update on a computer at my aunt's house in Georgia, so we'll see ï.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to JKR. Not to me.
"So what caused the change from Dean to Seamus?" Hermione asked while leafing through a copy of 75 Useful Defense Charms. Ever the talented multi-tasker, she was easily able to read about a spell which caused one's feet to become fixed to the ground and listed to Ginny talk about her current boyfriend.
"Oh, I don't know," Ginny began, biting a nail, "Dean just didn't seem all that interesting anymore. I s'pose we just didn't share enough interests."
"I see. Seamus is undoubtedly better, am I right?"
"Yeah, I guess so," Ginny said, unusually unenthusiastic.
"You guess so?"
"Well yes, I mean... he's better than Dean or Michael but... Oh I don't know..." Ginny stared into the fire, brows furrowed.
"Ginny, are you not telling me something?" Hermione was one of the most clever witches to enter Hogwarts. Did Ginny honestly think that she could be fooled so easily into thinking that she was happy?
"Can you promise to keep a secret?"
"Of course, Gin you know me..."
"Well, today on the train—"She was interrupted by Ron and Harry bursting in to the common room, disturbing the peace and quiet of the fire's crackling and the turning of pages. Hermione looked at her expectantly, but Ginny didn't have the time to make any explanations.
Ron's arms were full of sweets. He was somehow balancing plates of assorted cakes, pies, cookies, and pudding, all while dangling a spoon and fork out of his mouth. Harry had only two bowls of pudding and a brownie and looked just as pleased.
"'Ewo, 'Mione, woo you like some cake?" he managed to utter, choking a bit on the last word. Ginny was about to protest that her dearest brother didn't care whether or not she would like a helping of elderberry pie, but she decided not to interrupt his moment of being sweet with Hermione. He tried to set the plates on an end table gracefully, but two plates of Black Forest cake came clattering down, spreading moist fudge all over the maroon carpet. Scourgify, Hermione muttered looking exasperated.
"No Ron, I wouldn't. Must you always make so much noise?"
"Well, you try balancing eleven plates gracefully!" he cried indignantly.
"Why are you even stealing eleven plates worth of food anyway? Those poor house elves must be so overworked. How could you be so—"
"The only reason I took half this stuff is because you mentioned you were hungry a bit earlier! I wasn't sure which you'd prefer..."
Hermione let out a small gasp, which Ginny recognized as a realization of how thoughtful Ron could be.
"... I was sure you mention that Pumpkin Tarts were your favorite, but I couldn't be sure, so I just HAD to—"
Ron clearly didn't understand that the noise Hermione made wasn't a grunt of frustration, but a sigh of appreciation. Ginny kicked him swiftly in the shins.
"Pumpkin tarts are my favorite," Hermione said with emotion, "You know, I think I saved the copy of Quidditch Quarterly with the Cannons on the front. D'you want to come help me search for it upstairs?"
The likelihood of Hermione having any copy of Quidditch Quarterly was slim to none, but neither of them seemed to mind. They both had that goofy-happy expression on their faces as Hermione grabbed his hand and held it all the way up the stairs, but not before standing on her tippy toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. Ron looked nervous as they went up the stairs, half expecting them to turn into the slippery slope they had the last time he had tried to gain access to her dorm. They didn't. When a girl takes someone by the hand and holds it all the way up, the stairs behave themselves and allow males to pass.
It wasn't until the pleasure of seeing the two together wore off that Ginny realized she was alone in the Gryffindor common room with Harry. All at once she felt a wave of awkwardness wash over her. Her t-shirt seemed too ill-fitting and her hair felt out of place. Compulsively, she felt it to make sure it's in place, trying to distract herself from the handsome boy—no, man—in front of her.
"About the train, Gin..."
"Don't," she said shortly, "I feel horrible about it, so maybe it would be better if we didn't talk about it."
"Why do you feel horrible?"
"Because my boyfriend was right there and... I just don't want to talk about it, okay?" She shifted uncomfortable in her chair.
"Well I don't feel great about it either," Harry said smiling, "If Ron knew I almost—"
"You almost what?" she asked hotly. Suddenly, she felt overcome with anger. Didn't he care that she didn't want to talk about it? That he was making her uncomfortable? She looked down at the feeling of sharp pain in her fingers only to see that they were clenched so tightly, they had turned completely white.
"We almost—I don't know. Didn't you feel anything?"
She was afraid to admit that maybe she had. It had been so much simpler when she just had a crush on Harry and admired him from afar. Saying her feelings out loud seemed so horribly wrong. Maybe she just wanted to keep this little love of hers a secret?
"Um, no. Not really," she lied. As soon as the words left her lips she wanted to suck them back in again.
"Oh. Well in that case, then maybe nothing happened at all" He looked incensed. His green eyes burned with anger, so much so that she was nearly afraid to look directly at him. Hurting him wasn't at all what she set out to do. She simply wanted to forget that it had ever happened, and denying was just the easiest way. No harm, no foul.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Harry's vision blurred. He had never felt so humiliated. Until that moment, he hadn't even been sure that he liked her. He still wasn't, really. Maybe he was just feeling angry that she didn't want him, for no other reason than that. Had he really expected her to wait around like some sort of puppy dog while he was off fighting evil since his second year? Even last year, he assumed that she was only dating Michael as a sort of distraction. Now he could see that she hadn't waited. She'd had no reason to. When had he ever shown interest? He even went so far as to tell her to leave when she wanted to help fight Voldemort at the Ministry of Magic. He had no reason to think that she would like him.
And yet he did think she liked him. No, maybe he hoped. Either way, she had proven him wrong.
He splashed some water on his face and combed his hair. Oh Harry, you really are looking mighty fine, he thought to himself sarcastically. Ever since Sirius had... passed, he looked almost hollow. Voldemort had taken the last thing he really loved. The bags under his eyes told the whole story.
He crept quietly into bed, not even noticing Ron coming in a moment or two later. Only when Ron started whistling "Head Over Feet" did he even notice notice his presence.
"Ron?" Harry asked almost incredulously. In their 6 years of friendship, he had never once heard Ron whistle. Now he was whistling as if he never wanted to stop.
"Harry, I'm floating on a cloud..." he replied as he twirled in a circle before falling face down on his bed. Love could do many things, but it couldn't turn someone as clumsy as Ron into a ballet dancer. Not overnight, anyway.
Ordinarily, Harry would have asked him how it was with Hermione, if he had a good time, etc., but he was in far to bad of a mood to ask such silly questions. Even just looking at Ron's red hair made him think of Ginny and how she had told him that she hadn't felt anything in the train compartment just hours ago. It all made it even more dream-like. The more he thought about dreams, the heavier his eyelids became.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The next day was one of the most awkward Harry had encountered, running a close second to how he felt at Madam Puddifoot's when Cho burst into tears and stranded him by Roger Davies and his sweetheart du jour. Ginny sat on one side of the table with a piece of toast on her plate and her arms crossed, a disagreeable scowl littering her face. Hermione looked radiant, with her hair looking shiny and reflecting the light, her cheeks rosy, and an absolutely beaming smile. Ron was even looking pretty dapper himself, compared to his usual morning caveman look. Harry even suspected that they were holding hands beneath the table.
Breakfast in the Great Hall reminded him of how glad he sometimes was that Ginny was in a younger year than them. He could suffer through his double potions and transfiguration with Slytherins so long as he didn't have to face her glare. Who would have thought that the boy who faced Voldemort and survived time after time could be so frightened of a sixteen year old girl. In fact, Potions seemed almost to be a relief after the staredown he had received while trying to enjoy nice bowl of porridge.
Of course, once he was actually in potions, he seriously considered the thought that dealing with Ginny was much better. Snape had them brewing an extremely complicated potion that would alter facial features slightly, depending on the final ingredient added. Harry, as usual, skipped one line (adding the powdered root of Rangletain, he thought miserably) and caused his potion to turn a putrid shade of yellow. He hadn't done extraordinarily badly on his Potions O.W.L., so he it was hard to understand why he performed so badly down in the dungeons twice weekly. It had to be Snape.
He had gotten no better since the incident at the ministry. In fact, he was using the fact that he needed to pretend to "have no outside relation" to Potter as an excuse to torture him every time he had the chance. Always calling on him to answer impossible questions, and then turning to Malfoy and having him arrogantly point out Potter's mistake. Harry could swear that the questions were pre-planned just to make sure that Harry was properly humiliated every time they met.
As of September, Lucius Malfoy was still in Azkaban. Harry knew it was only a matter of time before they broke out and caused widespread chaos, but he was relishing in the thought that they were having a miserable time behind bars for the time being. He also loved the fact that Draco hadn't yet gotten over the fact that his worst enemy managed to outsmart his father and land him in jail, permanently damaging his reputation and ruining the Malfoy name. Again, Harry knew that one of these days the Malfoys were going to reciprocate the trouble he'd caused back on him, but he was busy basking in the pleasure of temporarily defeating his rival's family.
On the way out of their transfiguration lesson, Harry finally decided to ask Ron what happened in the girls' dormitory the night before. Hermione had gone off to the library and left the two alone for some "guy time".
"Oh, you know... We, er, talked," Ron said, the corners of him mouth turning up slightly.
"Just talking? Well I'm certainly surprised," Harry replied, punching Ron in the arm.
"Basically we just, you know, went at it for a little bit. The first time we did it properly and all" Ron's smirk had turned into a complete smile was he said the words.
Harry thought for a brief instant about what it would have been like to kiss Ginny on the train the day before.
"So what happened with you and Gin, man? She looked completely fumed at breakfast," Ron prodded as he headed up the stairs to the fat lady's portrait.
"Oh nothing, just a little quarrel over quidditch, that's. You know how she feels about the Harpies". It was surprisingly easy to lie to Ron, and though it frightened Harry a little bit, it was more than slightly convenient on this occasion. "D'you want to go out on the pitch with me and toss the quaffle around a little bit?" Harry asked.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
On the way in from the pitch, Harry saw McGonagall in the common room looking for him. His heart skipped a beat. Was she here for the reason he thought she was? His mouth salivated a little bit at the thought.
"Potter, I need to talk to you," McGonagall said in her familiar affectionate bark. Harry couldn't even wipe the grin off his face when he caught her eye. He knew.
"Yes, Professor?" he asked sweetly, trying to act like he was oblivious to what was coming.
"Can I see you in my office for a moment?" Harry nodded and gave his broom to Ron to take upstairs. There seemed to be a little spring in his step as he walked down the corridor. He could hardly wait for her to get the keys in the door so they could sit down and make it official.
Her office was barren with the exception of various House Cups and Quidditch Cups and the occasion certificate or merit on the wall. She sat down at her mahogany desk and gestured Harry to sit in one of the straight-backed wooden chairs. She shuffled some papers on her desk and fixed the brooch around her neck before looking up and beginning her announcement.
"As you are aware, Mr. Potter, Angelina Johnson graduated last year," she began, "Leaving us without a captain and without a chaser..."
"Don't you mean—"
"Two chasers, Potter, if you'd let me finish. In any case, we need a new captain and we need to hold tryouts for the others," she continued with a slight look of annoyance on her face. Harry was trying hard to be on his best behavior, but it was hard to contain his excitement.
"Since no one else on the team has as much experience as you or the desire to be captain, I've decided to let you have a chance at it. Keep in mind, however, that being the quidditch captain does not, under any circumstances provide an excuse to let your studies slip. Are we clear?" she asked.
"Oh, absolutely McGon—I mean, Professor. I won't let you down," he said. Words were flying out of his mouth at a mile of minute and he no longer bothered trying to hold them back. It was his first time playing quidditch in two years, and now he was house captain! Professor McGonagall went on to continue the rules and responsibilities of the job, but he was too busy floating on a cloud to notice. The bit of information he picked up was that he was supposed to hold team tryouts the following Friday.
He skipped out of her office punching the air and crying out to all the statues. He hadn't been this happy for a long time.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to JKR. Not to me.
"So what caused the change from Dean to Seamus?" Hermione asked while leafing through a copy of 75 Useful Defense Charms. Ever the talented multi-tasker, she was easily able to read about a spell which caused one's feet to become fixed to the ground and listed to Ginny talk about her current boyfriend.
"Oh, I don't know," Ginny began, biting a nail, "Dean just didn't seem all that interesting anymore. I s'pose we just didn't share enough interests."
"I see. Seamus is undoubtedly better, am I right?"
"Yeah, I guess so," Ginny said, unusually unenthusiastic.
"You guess so?"
"Well yes, I mean... he's better than Dean or Michael but... Oh I don't know..." Ginny stared into the fire, brows furrowed.
"Ginny, are you not telling me something?" Hermione was one of the most clever witches to enter Hogwarts. Did Ginny honestly think that she could be fooled so easily into thinking that she was happy?
"Can you promise to keep a secret?"
"Of course, Gin you know me..."
"Well, today on the train—"She was interrupted by Ron and Harry bursting in to the common room, disturbing the peace and quiet of the fire's crackling and the turning of pages. Hermione looked at her expectantly, but Ginny didn't have the time to make any explanations.
Ron's arms were full of sweets. He was somehow balancing plates of assorted cakes, pies, cookies, and pudding, all while dangling a spoon and fork out of his mouth. Harry had only two bowls of pudding and a brownie and looked just as pleased.
"'Ewo, 'Mione, woo you like some cake?" he managed to utter, choking a bit on the last word. Ginny was about to protest that her dearest brother didn't care whether or not she would like a helping of elderberry pie, but she decided not to interrupt his moment of being sweet with Hermione. He tried to set the plates on an end table gracefully, but two plates of Black Forest cake came clattering down, spreading moist fudge all over the maroon carpet. Scourgify, Hermione muttered looking exasperated.
"No Ron, I wouldn't. Must you always make so much noise?"
"Well, you try balancing eleven plates gracefully!" he cried indignantly.
"Why are you even stealing eleven plates worth of food anyway? Those poor house elves must be so overworked. How could you be so—"
"The only reason I took half this stuff is because you mentioned you were hungry a bit earlier! I wasn't sure which you'd prefer..."
Hermione let out a small gasp, which Ginny recognized as a realization of how thoughtful Ron could be.
"... I was sure you mention that Pumpkin Tarts were your favorite, but I couldn't be sure, so I just HAD to—"
Ron clearly didn't understand that the noise Hermione made wasn't a grunt of frustration, but a sigh of appreciation. Ginny kicked him swiftly in the shins.
"Pumpkin tarts are my favorite," Hermione said with emotion, "You know, I think I saved the copy of Quidditch Quarterly with the Cannons on the front. D'you want to come help me search for it upstairs?"
The likelihood of Hermione having any copy of Quidditch Quarterly was slim to none, but neither of them seemed to mind. They both had that goofy-happy expression on their faces as Hermione grabbed his hand and held it all the way up the stairs, but not before standing on her tippy toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. Ron looked nervous as they went up the stairs, half expecting them to turn into the slippery slope they had the last time he had tried to gain access to her dorm. They didn't. When a girl takes someone by the hand and holds it all the way up, the stairs behave themselves and allow males to pass.
It wasn't until the pleasure of seeing the two together wore off that Ginny realized she was alone in the Gryffindor common room with Harry. All at once she felt a wave of awkwardness wash over her. Her t-shirt seemed too ill-fitting and her hair felt out of place. Compulsively, she felt it to make sure it's in place, trying to distract herself from the handsome boy—no, man—in front of her.
"About the train, Gin..."
"Don't," she said shortly, "I feel horrible about it, so maybe it would be better if we didn't talk about it."
"Why do you feel horrible?"
"Because my boyfriend was right there and... I just don't want to talk about it, okay?" She shifted uncomfortable in her chair.
"Well I don't feel great about it either," Harry said smiling, "If Ron knew I almost—"
"You almost what?" she asked hotly. Suddenly, she felt overcome with anger. Didn't he care that she didn't want to talk about it? That he was making her uncomfortable? She looked down at the feeling of sharp pain in her fingers only to see that they were clenched so tightly, they had turned completely white.
"We almost—I don't know. Didn't you feel anything?"
She was afraid to admit that maybe she had. It had been so much simpler when she just had a crush on Harry and admired him from afar. Saying her feelings out loud seemed so horribly wrong. Maybe she just wanted to keep this little love of hers a secret?
"Um, no. Not really," she lied. As soon as the words left her lips she wanted to suck them back in again.
"Oh. Well in that case, then maybe nothing happened at all" He looked incensed. His green eyes burned with anger, so much so that she was nearly afraid to look directly at him. Hurting him wasn't at all what she set out to do. She simply wanted to forget that it had ever happened, and denying was just the easiest way. No harm, no foul.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Harry's vision blurred. He had never felt so humiliated. Until that moment, he hadn't even been sure that he liked her. He still wasn't, really. Maybe he was just feeling angry that she didn't want him, for no other reason than that. Had he really expected her to wait around like some sort of puppy dog while he was off fighting evil since his second year? Even last year, he assumed that she was only dating Michael as a sort of distraction. Now he could see that she hadn't waited. She'd had no reason to. When had he ever shown interest? He even went so far as to tell her to leave when she wanted to help fight Voldemort at the Ministry of Magic. He had no reason to think that she would like him.
And yet he did think she liked him. No, maybe he hoped. Either way, she had proven him wrong.
He splashed some water on his face and combed his hair. Oh Harry, you really are looking mighty fine, he thought to himself sarcastically. Ever since Sirius had... passed, he looked almost hollow. Voldemort had taken the last thing he really loved. The bags under his eyes told the whole story.
He crept quietly into bed, not even noticing Ron coming in a moment or two later. Only when Ron started whistling "Head Over Feet" did he even notice notice his presence.
"Ron?" Harry asked almost incredulously. In their 6 years of friendship, he had never once heard Ron whistle. Now he was whistling as if he never wanted to stop.
"Harry, I'm floating on a cloud..." he replied as he twirled in a circle before falling face down on his bed. Love could do many things, but it couldn't turn someone as clumsy as Ron into a ballet dancer. Not overnight, anyway.
Ordinarily, Harry would have asked him how it was with Hermione, if he had a good time, etc., but he was in far to bad of a mood to ask such silly questions. Even just looking at Ron's red hair made him think of Ginny and how she had told him that she hadn't felt anything in the train compartment just hours ago. It all made it even more dream-like. The more he thought about dreams, the heavier his eyelids became.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The next day was one of the most awkward Harry had encountered, running a close second to how he felt at Madam Puddifoot's when Cho burst into tears and stranded him by Roger Davies and his sweetheart du jour. Ginny sat on one side of the table with a piece of toast on her plate and her arms crossed, a disagreeable scowl littering her face. Hermione looked radiant, with her hair looking shiny and reflecting the light, her cheeks rosy, and an absolutely beaming smile. Ron was even looking pretty dapper himself, compared to his usual morning caveman look. Harry even suspected that they were holding hands beneath the table.
Breakfast in the Great Hall reminded him of how glad he sometimes was that Ginny was in a younger year than them. He could suffer through his double potions and transfiguration with Slytherins so long as he didn't have to face her glare. Who would have thought that the boy who faced Voldemort and survived time after time could be so frightened of a sixteen year old girl. In fact, Potions seemed almost to be a relief after the staredown he had received while trying to enjoy nice bowl of porridge.
Of course, once he was actually in potions, he seriously considered the thought that dealing with Ginny was much better. Snape had them brewing an extremely complicated potion that would alter facial features slightly, depending on the final ingredient added. Harry, as usual, skipped one line (adding the powdered root of Rangletain, he thought miserably) and caused his potion to turn a putrid shade of yellow. He hadn't done extraordinarily badly on his Potions O.W.L., so he it was hard to understand why he performed so badly down in the dungeons twice weekly. It had to be Snape.
He had gotten no better since the incident at the ministry. In fact, he was using the fact that he needed to pretend to "have no outside relation" to Potter as an excuse to torture him every time he had the chance. Always calling on him to answer impossible questions, and then turning to Malfoy and having him arrogantly point out Potter's mistake. Harry could swear that the questions were pre-planned just to make sure that Harry was properly humiliated every time they met.
As of September, Lucius Malfoy was still in Azkaban. Harry knew it was only a matter of time before they broke out and caused widespread chaos, but he was relishing in the thought that they were having a miserable time behind bars for the time being. He also loved the fact that Draco hadn't yet gotten over the fact that his worst enemy managed to outsmart his father and land him in jail, permanently damaging his reputation and ruining the Malfoy name. Again, Harry knew that one of these days the Malfoys were going to reciprocate the trouble he'd caused back on him, but he was busy basking in the pleasure of temporarily defeating his rival's family.
On the way out of their transfiguration lesson, Harry finally decided to ask Ron what happened in the girls' dormitory the night before. Hermione had gone off to the library and left the two alone for some "guy time".
"Oh, you know... We, er, talked," Ron said, the corners of him mouth turning up slightly.
"Just talking? Well I'm certainly surprised," Harry replied, punching Ron in the arm.
"Basically we just, you know, went at it for a little bit. The first time we did it properly and all" Ron's smirk had turned into a complete smile was he said the words.
Harry thought for a brief instant about what it would have been like to kiss Ginny on the train the day before.
"So what happened with you and Gin, man? She looked completely fumed at breakfast," Ron prodded as he headed up the stairs to the fat lady's portrait.
"Oh nothing, just a little quarrel over quidditch, that's. You know how she feels about the Harpies". It was surprisingly easy to lie to Ron, and though it frightened Harry a little bit, it was more than slightly convenient on this occasion. "D'you want to go out on the pitch with me and toss the quaffle around a little bit?" Harry asked.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
On the way in from the pitch, Harry saw McGonagall in the common room looking for him. His heart skipped a beat. Was she here for the reason he thought she was? His mouth salivated a little bit at the thought.
"Potter, I need to talk to you," McGonagall said in her familiar affectionate bark. Harry couldn't even wipe the grin off his face when he caught her eye. He knew.
"Yes, Professor?" he asked sweetly, trying to act like he was oblivious to what was coming.
"Can I see you in my office for a moment?" Harry nodded and gave his broom to Ron to take upstairs. There seemed to be a little spring in his step as he walked down the corridor. He could hardly wait for her to get the keys in the door so they could sit down and make it official.
Her office was barren with the exception of various House Cups and Quidditch Cups and the occasion certificate or merit on the wall. She sat down at her mahogany desk and gestured Harry to sit in one of the straight-backed wooden chairs. She shuffled some papers on her desk and fixed the brooch around her neck before looking up and beginning her announcement.
"As you are aware, Mr. Potter, Angelina Johnson graduated last year," she began, "Leaving us without a captain and without a chaser..."
"Don't you mean—"
"Two chasers, Potter, if you'd let me finish. In any case, we need a new captain and we need to hold tryouts for the others," she continued with a slight look of annoyance on her face. Harry was trying hard to be on his best behavior, but it was hard to contain his excitement.
"Since no one else on the team has as much experience as you or the desire to be captain, I've decided to let you have a chance at it. Keep in mind, however, that being the quidditch captain does not, under any circumstances provide an excuse to let your studies slip. Are we clear?" she asked.
"Oh, absolutely McGon—I mean, Professor. I won't let you down," he said. Words were flying out of his mouth at a mile of minute and he no longer bothered trying to hold them back. It was his first time playing quidditch in two years, and now he was house captain! Professor McGonagall went on to continue the rules and responsibilities of the job, but he was too busy floating on a cloud to notice. The bit of information he picked up was that he was supposed to hold team tryouts the following Friday.
He skipped out of her office punching the air and crying out to all the statues. He hadn't been this happy for a long time.
