Harry's Type?
Harry tossed and turned in his bed in Grimmauld Place, unable to find sleep as thoughts kept running through his head.
For some inexplicable reason images of Ginny were forcing themselves to the forefront of his mind with a rosy glow and a feeling like when Crouch cast the Imperious on him during fourth year, light and airy and easy to go along with but yet still utterly wrong.
Rolling to his side to stare out the window, since the bright orange moving posters Ron had recently plastered everywhere else in the room were not conducive to soothing thoughts, he tried a different tactic… when Ginny popped into his mind yet again, he forcefully thought of Cho to compare the two. His one disastrous date with the attractive Asian Ravenclaw Seeker, on Valentine's Day no loess, made him think that the exotic beauty was definitely not his type. Pretty Quidditch Girls in the D.A. neatly summed up the pair, but that didn't really help as that could apply to Katie too and he actually liked her far more than the aggressive red head.
Katie was currently unattached as far as he knew, so didn't try to force his thoughts away from her but rather towards her as thoughts of Ginny yet again forcefully shoved themselves into his mind. Another Pretty Quidditch Girl, but they had been teammates since the second week of his first year having joined the team within a few days of each other, they had studied and worked together for years working on ways to help each other during games. She knew him… not the Boy-Who-Lived, but him… that was something incredibly precious to him, and made her definitely not something Ron's little sister was, Katie wasn't a Fangirl.
More thoughts of Ginny intruded into his mind and he growled softly, something wasn't right.
'So…' Harry mentally began to compile a list, 'Pretty, Quidditch, D.A., Non-Fangirl…' but something was niggling at the back of his mind, 'not Quidditch… Team Player!' While Katie mostly fit the mold of what he was coming to believe in as 'his type', Ginny didn't even come close.
Harry tried to think about Parvati and Padma, but quickly shook his head and mentally added 'Friend' to the list, which instantly dropped the pool of girls down to single digits… really down to only Katie… and Hermione…
While the thoughts of Ginny were able to push thoughts of Katie around in his mind, they couldn't touch his thoughts of Hermione for some reason. His pretty, bushy-haired, best friend warded off the weird thoughts of the angry girl. He'd heard some people actually compare Ginny to his own mother in appearance a few times, while many thought Hermione was like his mother in aptitude and intelligence, and while all of the girls he'd been thinking of were pretty, he'd never considered himself to be vain enough to look only at the surface of those around him.
Something wasn't right. Harry sat up slowly, reaching absentmindedly for a biscuit from a plate beside his bed, but paused before he took a bite, staring in wonder at the chocolate encrusted thing, then glancing over to Ron sleeping under a silencing charm nearby.
"How the bloody hell did he not eat these?" Harry said quietly. "Kreacher," he called his house elf, not that he really wanted the cranky bigoted old bastard.
"Nasty half-blood brat calls, what does the nasty half-blood brat want now?"
"Kreacher, I want you to preserve these biscuits, then bring them to me when I ask for them later today. I also want you to tell Hermione I've gone to see Madam Pomphrey… just that. I'm worried about something."
"Yes, Master… friend of mudbloods and blood-traitors…"
