Hello folks! Chapter eight is here. I had told myself that I would get it out immediately after reading zan189's wonderful article about my unworthy story, but as you can see that never happened. Anyway, zan189, thank you for being my best fan! If you ever have any requests, feel free to ask. I hope this chapter is up to par.
Chapter Eight
SHAAYYMUUUSSS!
Ginny was quite curious. There was a buzz going around the school. Something was going to happen, but no one was sure what it would be. She couldn't possibly concentrate on her classes and spent most of History of Magic lavishly decorating a heart with "G plus H-W-M-N-B-N" written in the middle. Defense Against the Dark Arts was probably the only class she paid attention in because Professor Logan was teaching them how to make bombs out of sea urchins. The whole day passed in the same manner, till dinner, when the object of the stir was announced.
Dumbledore stood up and raised his hands to hush the crowd. Slowly, he blew his nose, carefully folded his handkerchief, adjusted his half-moon glasses, and cleared his throat. The student body was beginning to look murderous. Dumbledore seemed to catch the vibe and proceeded to say, "All you seventh years already know this, but to the younger peoples I'll explain. You know how every year I tell you that the sixth and seventh years are going to take an all night prostate exam? Well they're really going to the Masquerade Prom. It's just been tradition that only sixth and seventh years go. This year, however, we will be allowing fifth years to go too, and if any of the younger students are asked to accompany a fifth, sixth, or seventh year then they can go too!"
The students broke into tumultuous applause. Clapping madly like everyone else, Harry leaned over to Ron and said, "You know, they always did look a little too happy to be going to a prostate exam."
Ron nodded and said, "I also wondered why they needed to wear costumes."
Slowly, Harry paled as a horrible thought occurred to him. "We're going to have to bring dates!"
The color drained out of Ron's face. The prospect of trying to find a date seemed to rob him of speech. Farther down the table, Ginny was beaming at Dumbledore. Her head was already brimming with plans for costumes and smuggling Tom in. She laughed slightly sinisterly. Hermione had a thoughtful expression on her face. As soon as she possibly could she left the table to ponder in peace.
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The next day the whole school was brimming with excitement. Girls would whisper to each other and giggle whenever a boy passed, just to unnerve them. Boys would stare at the girls long enough to make them feel uncomfortable. In every class there were students talking about costumes. Each of the girls wanted to outshine the others; the boys just wanted to find an outfit they wouldn't look ridiculous in.
Ginny knew what she wanted to be, and was busily plotting how to create her masterpiece. All sorts of competitions went on at the Masquerade; the seventh years she had interrogated told her that.
A wide range of boys had already asked her to accompany them. Ginny had been backed into a corner by a scabby seventh year, given puppy-dog eyes by a third year, and breathed on heavily by Professor Logan, who seemed to be asking all the pretty girls. He appeared to be quite drunk, this being backed up by the fact his breath smelled like he had just downed six straight shots of Jack Daniels. Ginny thought he was just very inebriated, but it turned out that the teachers were required to attend and encouraged to bring dates. She prayed that their dates would not be students.
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Harry and Ron were on the verge of having a nervous breakdown. Every time a girl came within five feet of them, they would whimper and shake. One can imagine that class was rather hard for them to get through. Hermione, however, was spaced out, and no use to the distraught boys.
Girls Harry had never met, and would've sworn he had never seen before had asked to go to the Prom with him. He was asked by a first year who barely came up to his navel, a fourth year that kept trying to pull her collar lower on her shoulders, and a fifth year who had a mustache. This last experience had left Harry faint and pale, and Ron had had to provide multiple bottles of butterbeer to revive his spirits.
Ron had not been asked by anyone, and he couldn't tell if that was good or bad. He was jealous of all the attention Harry was getting, but he didn't want to have to go through the ordeal of being asked by a troll. This left him feeling a mixture of relief and envy that confused him completely. He just wished that he could find a gorgeous girl with a great personality that loved him no matter what he did. Was that too much to ask?
Hermione was behaving very mysteriously, skulking around and hiding under things. The two boys were so caught up in their own problems, they didn't notice Hermione's strange behavior. She had been approached by a few boys, but had dived under whatever furniture was handy. One may be sure this deterred a great many prospective dates.
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Ron and Harry were trying to recoup in front of the fireplace after the days stressful events. They imbibed quite a bit of firewhisky that Harry had convinced Doby to smuggle him. This progressed to both singing songs by Tina Turner.
It was in this condition that they discovered the cause of Hermione's odd conduct. She walked into the common room hand in hand with Seamus Finnegan. They had been secretly going steady for months. Ron's mouth dropped open, but surprise was quickly replaced by rage at this unexpected development.
Ron jumped to his feet and nearly fell down. He tried to focus on Seamus's face. "Shemas? Shamees? Shmaesy? SHAAAAYYMUUSS. Ha! Your names spelled S-E-A-M-U-S, but it's pronuounceded SHAAYYMMUUSSS. What was yer mother drunk when she nameded you?"
"Why you !$&hole! My mother was sober as a grudge! Anyway, your one to talk about being drunk!" Seamus bellowed at Ron.
Ron swung his fist at Seamus's head, which whiffed completely. Seamus, however, not being drunk, pummeled Ron to the floor. Hermione could only stare in horror. Harry just rooted both combatants on and failed completely to juggle the empty firewhisky bottles. Hermione turned and fled, crying to her room. Seamus stomped on Ron's stomach one last time, and stormed off to his room.
Harry thought he heard a faint "Well that didn't work." escape from Ron's lips, but couldn't be sure, as he was seriously drunk. Just for the sheer heck of it, Harry threw some sea urchin bombs that he had stolen from Ginny into the smoldering logs. His eyebrows took some time to grow back.
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This is the author again in my first ever end note. I just wanted to say that I really have no idea who Harry is going with. If anyone has suggestions, feel free to send them in. I don't care whether they're even from Harry Potter. You could even suggest yourself, but them I'd need some information about you. Until next chapter!