Chapter Seventeen: Pride Can Hurt You Too
"Hello?" Ginny blinked abruptly as a pair of snapping fingers was thrust in front of her face. "Anyone home?"
Ginny blinked again to see her friend Patricia frowning at her. "Sorry, Patricia," she apologized. "What were you saying?"
"I was just wondering why you won't go and talk to him, that's all. You've been staring over there for hours."
Ginny colored, stealing one more glance over in Harry's direction, a small sigh escaping her lips. Three weeks had passed since their "huge row" as the rest of the Gryffindors were calling it. Three long weeks since they'd uttered one word to each other.
"It's not that easy," she replied wearily.
"Sure it is," Patricia said. "Just get up, go over there and say 'Hi there, Harry! Remember me? People used to think we were permanently attached at the lip."
Ginny giggled in spite of herself. "That's not true!"
"Was too!"
"I know what you should do," said Amy as she plopped down next to Patricia. She pulled out a shiny object from her pocket and held it out to Ginny, who instantly recognized it as a quarter. "Go test this out." Ginny burst out into laughter, unknowingly drawing a pair of bright-green eyes to her attention.
****
"Ouch!" Harry grunted, turning back to Ron and rubbing his shin. "That was my leg!"
Ron glared at him. "I was aiming a bit higher," he snapped. "And that was for you still acting like the biggest git in the world. Go talk to her," he finished abruptly.
Harry drew a deep breath. "It's not just me, is it? Ginny's not exactly going out of her way to talk to me either."
"She's a Weasley. She's stubborn. You're going to have to make the first move."
"What? That's ridiculous," Harry said, sneaking another look over at the red head in question.
"It's true. And you're going to need to do it soon," Ron advised. "You're putting a damper on us all. You're miserable. Ginny's miserable. You're both making me miserable, and Hermione is going out of her wits trying to devise ways to get you two to kiss and makeup, which is putting her off on.well." Ron colored a bit. "Hermione's not been paying much attention to me."
"Poor baby," Harry murmured in mock sympathy.
"Watch it," Ron warned. "The only reason your head is still attached to your neck is because the rest of the family-namely my brothers-haven't found out about this. And they'll either see that you do fix this mess or."
"It's not that easy," Harry interjected. "It's too complicated now."
"Complicated? All you have to do is get your arse out of that seat, go over there, and say 'Hi! I'm Harry. You might remember me from when you used to write me Valentine's poems and send me get well cards and stuff. We used to be together, but then I was a git, then you turned into a git, and well..let's stop being gits and go make-out or something.' It's that easy," Ron finished proudly, leaning back in his chair with a smug expression.
Harry chuckled wryly. "She said Fred and George sent me the Valentine."
"That not the bloody point! Look, just go talk to her!"
"Talk to who?" asked a new voice. Harry turned just in time to see John and Paul take seats next to them.
"Where've you been?" Ron asked. The two Beaters just gave wicked smiles.
Harry guessed, "Don't tell me you two have been playing on the rooftops again, have you?" John and Paul, along with George and Richard, the Beaters from Hufflepuff had taken to playing a game of "Beater Quidditch" a game where the four Beaters fly around the Hogwarts rooftops and try to hit each other with a pair of Bludgers, while trying to avoid the many chimneys Hogwarts possessed. They'd been caught up there once already by Filch, who naturally gave the four detention. However, that only added to the game, Harry supposed.
Paul looked a bit sheepish. John just shrugged as he asked, "So, what goes on?"
Harry couldn't stop himself from glancing over at Ginny again. "Don't tell me you two are still not speaking to each other," Paul gasped. "You two have got to work it out. Quidditch practices are becoming unbearable with the two of you not speaking to each other and the rest of us trying not to pretend like you're not speaking to each other. It's driving me crazy!"
Harry sighed wearily. He did not want to discuss his love live with the two second years. "It's complicated."
"Look, it's up to you," said John. "You have to make the first move. Swallow your pride and go apologize to her."
"She loves you," Paul added sagely. "And you know that can't be bad."
Harry had a strange uncontrollable urge to tap his feet and bob his head, as though listening to some sort of catchy tune with a great beat. He squelched the urge as best as he could and decided he'd had enough advice from the male residents of Gryffindor. So, with a quick goodnight to everyone at the table, Harry packed his bag and headed straight to bed.
****
"What is that smell?" Ginny scrunched up her nose as a nauseous odor suddenly pervaded the air.
Amy nodded towards a first year who had just climbed in through the portrait hole and was passing by their seats. The girl was proudly carrying a piece of pie on a plate as though it were a holy relic. "Pumpkin pie," she replied, fanning the air in front of her face to chase away the worst of the smell. "Mary Sue Blackstone," she gestured towards the first year girl, who had found a seat and was now gorging herself on the slice of pie. "She absolutely adores pumpkin pie. Eats it everyday."
Ginny, who'd never been fond of that particular dessert herself, shrugged and watched as the girl shoved a heaping forkful of the orange and gold stuff into her mouth, a blissful _expression on her face as though it were her first meal after years of starvation. "She'd better enjoy it while it lasts, I suppose. Pumpkin season ends the first day of summer."
"Oh look!" cried Patricia excitedly, holding up the latest copy of Witch Weekly. The cover read "The Rear of the Year" and under the headline it had a picture of.was that Oliver Wood? Ginny leaned in closer to have a better look. Yes, it was Oliver Wood, former Gryffindor Quidditch captain, looking quite startled as though someone had sneaked up from behind and managed to get a picture of his behind. He kept on trying to cover his head with the turtleneck sweater he was wearing while trying to keep his rear covered by the other end, to no avail.
"Amazing," cooed Amy breathlessly, gazing at the cover as though Christmas had come early and her every wish had come true.
A tapping on the window just behind them startled the three out of their rear-end induced stupor. Something that looked like a small gray dishcloth was tapping frantically on the window, a small piece of parchment tucked in its beak.
"Look!" cried Amy, opening the window and letting the poor owl in. It was a strange owl, very small, and very old and tired looking, although not as old as Errol. It had bald spots on its skin, as though feathers had been missing, or pulled out, and what feathers were left were downright pathetic looking. "Poor owl," she said, carefully taking it in and laying it down on the table. The owl shook a bit, and then managed to stand up on two wobbly feet. "Hey, there's a note for you Ginny."
Surprised, Ginny gently took the note from the owl, and gently stroked its head. "Poor baby. I have some owl treats for you." The owl gratefully took the offered treats and took off for the Owlery. Ginny opened the note.
G-
Need to meet with you regarding something you might like. An offer you can't refuse. Meet me tonight out by the pitch.
The world is quiet here.
L.
"Who's it from?" "Oh, it's nothing," Ginny lied, hoping that neither of her friends would press her for details. She recognized Ludo Bagman's untidy scrawl immediately and needed to get to the Owlery double quick to send a letter off to the Ministry. "I've got to send a reply, I'll be back in a bit."
And Ginny left leaving two very puzzled friends in her wake.
****
Harry meanwhile, was hopping around his room, cursing mildly and holding his foot, which he had just painfully hit on the side of his bed in frustration.
Yeah, kicking the bed really solved all our problems didn't it?
Ow, Damnit!
Seriously, why can't we just kiss the pants off her? I MISS GINNY!
So do I, but I'm not going to be the first one to apologize.
You can be stubborn enough for England. You were the one to start that fight, you know. You should be the one to end it.
What logic. And if I recall correctly, she's the one who said it was over! She obviously just doesn't want to be with me anymore.
Do you really believe that?
What else can I believe? She's not made the slightest effort to talk to me.
BECAUSE SHE'S JUST AS STUBBORN AS YOU ARE! And you can either both continue on being stubborn miserable gits until the end of time, or one of you can do something to end this mess once and for all!
Well, it's not going to be me.
Well fine then! I hope you stay just as miserable as you are now and end up old, bald, and living in a house that smells like old cabbage. You'll have a bunch of cats, and everyone on the street will refer to you as "that creepy old man." Meanwhile, Ginny will have found someone better, marry him, and have a bunch of red-headed, freckle faced kids trailing along behind in their unholy wake. Do you want that?
No.
Then you know what to do.
Harry groaned as though the weight of the world had just crashed down on him. Maybe a nice walk up to the Owlery and back would help clear his mind.
I highly doubt it.
****
"You're up late, Harry," observed Nearly Headless Nick, nearly making Harry jump through his skin. Harry looked up to see the Gryffindor ghost floating just above the entrance to the Owlery tower.
"Hi Nick," Harry murmured, keeping a close eye out for Filch. "I was just trying to clear my head."
"Ah! I understand," nodded Nick, straightening his ruff so that it covered his partially-severed neck. "Perhaps you're having some troubles of the female variety?"
Do we have the whole of the bloody school giving us advice on women?
It appears so.
"Yeah, well..." Harry trailed off, not wanting to discuss his love-life with the ghost.
"HALT! Who dares to disturb my slumber on a wretched night such as this?" Harry turned to see Sir Cadogan propped up against the base of a large oak, his rusty helmet and sword next to him. In a nearby painting, his fat gray pony was grazing contentedly. "Ah ha!" the knight said, his eyes squinting through the darkness and landing on Harry. "It is the scurvy cur who sends fair maidens into tears! Stand and fight you dog!" The little knight grabbed the rusty sword and thrust it through the air.
Harry just shook his head and turned to go up the Owlery stairs. "I'll see you later, Nick," he called out with a slight wave of his hand.
The Owlery was an oddly soothing place, with its musty smell of hay and bird dung. It had a great view of the Hogwarts grounds, and on a clear night one could almost make out the village of Hogsmeade, with little lights flickering in the shop windows and smoke billowing from the chimneys. Owls swooped in and out through the great window, perching on the large wooden beams and tucking their beaks into their wings.
Hedwig's bright plumage was instantly spotted amidst the dapper browns and grays of the other owls. She flew to Harry and landed on his shoulder, giving his ear a soft nibble.
"Hello Hedwig," he said, stroking her just behind her left wing. She cooed and rubbed her head against Harry's in a sign of affection.
The Quidditch pitch was very dark this time of night, but there was just enough light from the half-moon to make out two figures standing just to the right of the Hufflepuff bleachers. One was a slender figure, and if Harry didn't know better, he would have sworn it was Ginny. The other figure was stocky and short and constantly seemed to shift from one foot to the other, as though he were balancing on a tightrope.
****
Ginny nervously glanced around the area, making sure they were totally alone. After knowing what she did about Ludo Bagman, her impression of him changed greatly from the harmless, if a bit goofy ex-Beater, to something a bit more menacing. She'd just had enough time to dash off a letter to the Ministry before heading down to the pitch to meet with Bagman.
"I'm so shocked to hear that the Firebolt was a fake," Bagman was saying. "I had it on good authority that the broom was the genuine article."
"It nearly got me killed!"
"I feel just terrible about this, Ginny. I really, really do. But I think I can make it up to you." Bagman grinned eagerly and placed a hand on her shoulder. Ginny felt her skin crawl at the touch. "You see, since Firebolt's practically cornered the market on racing brooms, some of the other companies want a bit of the action. Cleansweep is absolutely dying to get a good broom to compete with the Firebolt."
"Cleansweep?" Ginny repeated. "Their last racing broom had to be recalled because it had a faulty acceleration charm on it. The thing would explode if you so much as looked at it wrong."
Bagman waved that off. "They've got that all taken care of. What say I get you their newest Cleansweep 42, at a fraction of the cost?"
"Cost! I gave you my life savings last time and look what it got me!"
"Shh!" Bagman glanced around nervously as though expecting someone to jump out at them at any moment. "Not so loud. And brooms cost money, Ginny."
"Yeah, tell me about it."
"Look, I can give you three weeks to get the money. One hundred galleons, that's all I need," said Bagman. "For the broom," he added.
Ginny was unsure of what to do. She didn't know if the Ministry wanted her to accept this offer in order to keep Bagman talking. She'd rather tell him exactly where he could shove the broom instead, but concluded that was probably not the best way to deal with a suspected broom smuggler.
"I'll...I'll think on it," she said at last, hoping to buy some time. "Give me a week."
Bagman looked like he wanted to balk. "Well, ok. But no more than a week, Ginny. I'll try to keep the seller from getting someone else. I'll contact you in a week."
Ginny nodded and watched as Bagman silently crept through the field, presumably heading back to Hogsmeade.
A rustling sound made Ginny snap around quickly, her heart racing.
"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE!?"
It was Harry.
**** A/N: Is anyone still reading this? *ducks thrown objects for ending with yet another cliffhanger* Don't worry! I've got Chapter 18 started, and I promise to have it out in a decent amount of time-meaning within a month. I'm going to do my best to get this story finished before Book Five, not because there's anything in here that I feel will go against canon, *laughs at the idea of this story being in canon* but because I've got a few people here and there that will do terrible things to me if I don't get it finished. *winks at those people* Happy Birthday to Ami who gets first peek at this chapter.. ::Hugs:: to Carissa who kept on doing third-party PMs to make sure I was writing it.
Oh, and the whole "Rear of the Year" thing is actually based on a British publication who gives the award to a celebrity every year. I know this only because I happened to have bought some shares in that celebrity on Celebdaq and saw the mention.
"Hello?" Ginny blinked abruptly as a pair of snapping fingers was thrust in front of her face. "Anyone home?"
Ginny blinked again to see her friend Patricia frowning at her. "Sorry, Patricia," she apologized. "What were you saying?"
"I was just wondering why you won't go and talk to him, that's all. You've been staring over there for hours."
Ginny colored, stealing one more glance over in Harry's direction, a small sigh escaping her lips. Three weeks had passed since their "huge row" as the rest of the Gryffindors were calling it. Three long weeks since they'd uttered one word to each other.
"It's not that easy," she replied wearily.
"Sure it is," Patricia said. "Just get up, go over there and say 'Hi there, Harry! Remember me? People used to think we were permanently attached at the lip."
Ginny giggled in spite of herself. "That's not true!"
"Was too!"
"I know what you should do," said Amy as she plopped down next to Patricia. She pulled out a shiny object from her pocket and held it out to Ginny, who instantly recognized it as a quarter. "Go test this out." Ginny burst out into laughter, unknowingly drawing a pair of bright-green eyes to her attention.
****
"Ouch!" Harry grunted, turning back to Ron and rubbing his shin. "That was my leg!"
Ron glared at him. "I was aiming a bit higher," he snapped. "And that was for you still acting like the biggest git in the world. Go talk to her," he finished abruptly.
Harry drew a deep breath. "It's not just me, is it? Ginny's not exactly going out of her way to talk to me either."
"She's a Weasley. She's stubborn. You're going to have to make the first move."
"What? That's ridiculous," Harry said, sneaking another look over at the red head in question.
"It's true. And you're going to need to do it soon," Ron advised. "You're putting a damper on us all. You're miserable. Ginny's miserable. You're both making me miserable, and Hermione is going out of her wits trying to devise ways to get you two to kiss and makeup, which is putting her off on.well." Ron colored a bit. "Hermione's not been paying much attention to me."
"Poor baby," Harry murmured in mock sympathy.
"Watch it," Ron warned. "The only reason your head is still attached to your neck is because the rest of the family-namely my brothers-haven't found out about this. And they'll either see that you do fix this mess or."
"It's not that easy," Harry interjected. "It's too complicated now."
"Complicated? All you have to do is get your arse out of that seat, go over there, and say 'Hi! I'm Harry. You might remember me from when you used to write me Valentine's poems and send me get well cards and stuff. We used to be together, but then I was a git, then you turned into a git, and well..let's stop being gits and go make-out or something.' It's that easy," Ron finished proudly, leaning back in his chair with a smug expression.
Harry chuckled wryly. "She said Fred and George sent me the Valentine."
"That not the bloody point! Look, just go talk to her!"
"Talk to who?" asked a new voice. Harry turned just in time to see John and Paul take seats next to them.
"Where've you been?" Ron asked. The two Beaters just gave wicked smiles.
Harry guessed, "Don't tell me you two have been playing on the rooftops again, have you?" John and Paul, along with George and Richard, the Beaters from Hufflepuff had taken to playing a game of "Beater Quidditch" a game where the four Beaters fly around the Hogwarts rooftops and try to hit each other with a pair of Bludgers, while trying to avoid the many chimneys Hogwarts possessed. They'd been caught up there once already by Filch, who naturally gave the four detention. However, that only added to the game, Harry supposed.
Paul looked a bit sheepish. John just shrugged as he asked, "So, what goes on?"
Harry couldn't stop himself from glancing over at Ginny again. "Don't tell me you two are still not speaking to each other," Paul gasped. "You two have got to work it out. Quidditch practices are becoming unbearable with the two of you not speaking to each other and the rest of us trying not to pretend like you're not speaking to each other. It's driving me crazy!"
Harry sighed wearily. He did not want to discuss his love live with the two second years. "It's complicated."
"Look, it's up to you," said John. "You have to make the first move. Swallow your pride and go apologize to her."
"She loves you," Paul added sagely. "And you know that can't be bad."
Harry had a strange uncontrollable urge to tap his feet and bob his head, as though listening to some sort of catchy tune with a great beat. He squelched the urge as best as he could and decided he'd had enough advice from the male residents of Gryffindor. So, with a quick goodnight to everyone at the table, Harry packed his bag and headed straight to bed.
****
"What is that smell?" Ginny scrunched up her nose as a nauseous odor suddenly pervaded the air.
Amy nodded towards a first year who had just climbed in through the portrait hole and was passing by their seats. The girl was proudly carrying a piece of pie on a plate as though it were a holy relic. "Pumpkin pie," she replied, fanning the air in front of her face to chase away the worst of the smell. "Mary Sue Blackstone," she gestured towards the first year girl, who had found a seat and was now gorging herself on the slice of pie. "She absolutely adores pumpkin pie. Eats it everyday."
Ginny, who'd never been fond of that particular dessert herself, shrugged and watched as the girl shoved a heaping forkful of the orange and gold stuff into her mouth, a blissful _expression on her face as though it were her first meal after years of starvation. "She'd better enjoy it while it lasts, I suppose. Pumpkin season ends the first day of summer."
"Oh look!" cried Patricia excitedly, holding up the latest copy of Witch Weekly. The cover read "The Rear of the Year" and under the headline it had a picture of.was that Oliver Wood? Ginny leaned in closer to have a better look. Yes, it was Oliver Wood, former Gryffindor Quidditch captain, looking quite startled as though someone had sneaked up from behind and managed to get a picture of his behind. He kept on trying to cover his head with the turtleneck sweater he was wearing while trying to keep his rear covered by the other end, to no avail.
"Amazing," cooed Amy breathlessly, gazing at the cover as though Christmas had come early and her every wish had come true.
A tapping on the window just behind them startled the three out of their rear-end induced stupor. Something that looked like a small gray dishcloth was tapping frantically on the window, a small piece of parchment tucked in its beak.
"Look!" cried Amy, opening the window and letting the poor owl in. It was a strange owl, very small, and very old and tired looking, although not as old as Errol. It had bald spots on its skin, as though feathers had been missing, or pulled out, and what feathers were left were downright pathetic looking. "Poor owl," she said, carefully taking it in and laying it down on the table. The owl shook a bit, and then managed to stand up on two wobbly feet. "Hey, there's a note for you Ginny."
Surprised, Ginny gently took the note from the owl, and gently stroked its head. "Poor baby. I have some owl treats for you." The owl gratefully took the offered treats and took off for the Owlery. Ginny opened the note.
G-
Need to meet with you regarding something you might like. An offer you can't refuse. Meet me tonight out by the pitch.
The world is quiet here.
L.
"Who's it from?" "Oh, it's nothing," Ginny lied, hoping that neither of her friends would press her for details. She recognized Ludo Bagman's untidy scrawl immediately and needed to get to the Owlery double quick to send a letter off to the Ministry. "I've got to send a reply, I'll be back in a bit."
And Ginny left leaving two very puzzled friends in her wake.
****
Harry meanwhile, was hopping around his room, cursing mildly and holding his foot, which he had just painfully hit on the side of his bed in frustration.
Yeah, kicking the bed really solved all our problems didn't it?
Ow, Damnit!
Seriously, why can't we just kiss the pants off her? I MISS GINNY!
So do I, but I'm not going to be the first one to apologize.
You can be stubborn enough for England. You were the one to start that fight, you know. You should be the one to end it.
What logic. And if I recall correctly, she's the one who said it was over! She obviously just doesn't want to be with me anymore.
Do you really believe that?
What else can I believe? She's not made the slightest effort to talk to me.
BECAUSE SHE'S JUST AS STUBBORN AS YOU ARE! And you can either both continue on being stubborn miserable gits until the end of time, or one of you can do something to end this mess once and for all!
Well, it's not going to be me.
Well fine then! I hope you stay just as miserable as you are now and end up old, bald, and living in a house that smells like old cabbage. You'll have a bunch of cats, and everyone on the street will refer to you as "that creepy old man." Meanwhile, Ginny will have found someone better, marry him, and have a bunch of red-headed, freckle faced kids trailing along behind in their unholy wake. Do you want that?
No.
Then you know what to do.
Harry groaned as though the weight of the world had just crashed down on him. Maybe a nice walk up to the Owlery and back would help clear his mind.
I highly doubt it.
****
"You're up late, Harry," observed Nearly Headless Nick, nearly making Harry jump through his skin. Harry looked up to see the Gryffindor ghost floating just above the entrance to the Owlery tower.
"Hi Nick," Harry murmured, keeping a close eye out for Filch. "I was just trying to clear my head."
"Ah! I understand," nodded Nick, straightening his ruff so that it covered his partially-severed neck. "Perhaps you're having some troubles of the female variety?"
Do we have the whole of the bloody school giving us advice on women?
It appears so.
"Yeah, well..." Harry trailed off, not wanting to discuss his love-life with the ghost.
"HALT! Who dares to disturb my slumber on a wretched night such as this?" Harry turned to see Sir Cadogan propped up against the base of a large oak, his rusty helmet and sword next to him. In a nearby painting, his fat gray pony was grazing contentedly. "Ah ha!" the knight said, his eyes squinting through the darkness and landing on Harry. "It is the scurvy cur who sends fair maidens into tears! Stand and fight you dog!" The little knight grabbed the rusty sword and thrust it through the air.
Harry just shook his head and turned to go up the Owlery stairs. "I'll see you later, Nick," he called out with a slight wave of his hand.
The Owlery was an oddly soothing place, with its musty smell of hay and bird dung. It had a great view of the Hogwarts grounds, and on a clear night one could almost make out the village of Hogsmeade, with little lights flickering in the shop windows and smoke billowing from the chimneys. Owls swooped in and out through the great window, perching on the large wooden beams and tucking their beaks into their wings.
Hedwig's bright plumage was instantly spotted amidst the dapper browns and grays of the other owls. She flew to Harry and landed on his shoulder, giving his ear a soft nibble.
"Hello Hedwig," he said, stroking her just behind her left wing. She cooed and rubbed her head against Harry's in a sign of affection.
The Quidditch pitch was very dark this time of night, but there was just enough light from the half-moon to make out two figures standing just to the right of the Hufflepuff bleachers. One was a slender figure, and if Harry didn't know better, he would have sworn it was Ginny. The other figure was stocky and short and constantly seemed to shift from one foot to the other, as though he were balancing on a tightrope.
****
Ginny nervously glanced around the area, making sure they were totally alone. After knowing what she did about Ludo Bagman, her impression of him changed greatly from the harmless, if a bit goofy ex-Beater, to something a bit more menacing. She'd just had enough time to dash off a letter to the Ministry before heading down to the pitch to meet with Bagman.
"I'm so shocked to hear that the Firebolt was a fake," Bagman was saying. "I had it on good authority that the broom was the genuine article."
"It nearly got me killed!"
"I feel just terrible about this, Ginny. I really, really do. But I think I can make it up to you." Bagman grinned eagerly and placed a hand on her shoulder. Ginny felt her skin crawl at the touch. "You see, since Firebolt's practically cornered the market on racing brooms, some of the other companies want a bit of the action. Cleansweep is absolutely dying to get a good broom to compete with the Firebolt."
"Cleansweep?" Ginny repeated. "Their last racing broom had to be recalled because it had a faulty acceleration charm on it. The thing would explode if you so much as looked at it wrong."
Bagman waved that off. "They've got that all taken care of. What say I get you their newest Cleansweep 42, at a fraction of the cost?"
"Cost! I gave you my life savings last time and look what it got me!"
"Shh!" Bagman glanced around nervously as though expecting someone to jump out at them at any moment. "Not so loud. And brooms cost money, Ginny."
"Yeah, tell me about it."
"Look, I can give you three weeks to get the money. One hundred galleons, that's all I need," said Bagman. "For the broom," he added.
Ginny was unsure of what to do. She didn't know if the Ministry wanted her to accept this offer in order to keep Bagman talking. She'd rather tell him exactly where he could shove the broom instead, but concluded that was probably not the best way to deal with a suspected broom smuggler.
"I'll...I'll think on it," she said at last, hoping to buy some time. "Give me a week."
Bagman looked like he wanted to balk. "Well, ok. But no more than a week, Ginny. I'll try to keep the seller from getting someone else. I'll contact you in a week."
Ginny nodded and watched as Bagman silently crept through the field, presumably heading back to Hogsmeade.
A rustling sound made Ginny snap around quickly, her heart racing.
"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE!?"
It was Harry.
**** A/N: Is anyone still reading this? *ducks thrown objects for ending with yet another cliffhanger* Don't worry! I've got Chapter 18 started, and I promise to have it out in a decent amount of time-meaning within a month. I'm going to do my best to get this story finished before Book Five, not because there's anything in here that I feel will go against canon, *laughs at the idea of this story being in canon* but because I've got a few people here and there that will do terrible things to me if I don't get it finished. *winks at those people* Happy Birthday to Ami who gets first peek at this chapter.. ::Hugs:: to Carissa who kept on doing third-party PMs to make sure I was writing it.
Oh, and the whole "Rear of the Year" thing is actually based on a British publication who gives the award to a celebrity every year. I know this only because I happened to have bought some shares in that celebrity on Celebdaq and saw the mention.