Disclaimer: If you really think its all mine, then you need to go to a blinking mental institution. No offense to people in mental institutions, I love you all.

Chapter Five–Talking to Couches

There was an odd tingling sensation on the back of Harry's neck. Something about this revelation made him feel nauseous. He shook the peculiar thoughts out of his head, why should he feel uneasy? Whenever he had time to lie and think like this, he found himself feeling edgy and perturbed. But the moment he fell under her ice–blue eyes… it was like being under the Imperius Spell, except different, more conscious. It was unsettling. He tried to avoid her, but she seemed to be wherever he was. Celia… a name that rolled off the tongue and tasted like heaven–but left an aftertaste like nightshade.

ooo

Ginny Weasley (Ginevra when her mum was irate) peered through her four–poster's curtains, checking her dorm mates sleeping status. When she was satisfied, she tiptoed past their beds, hushed the door open, and crept down the stairs. When she reached the shadowy common room, she peered around and slunk towards the entrance.

"Hold on, where ye goin'?" croaked a low voice that came from one of the couches. Oh no! Couches are talking to me! Am I going insane? Ginny looked around frantically and spied a tousled black wig nestled in one of the pillows. A Wig? She padded over to the wig and ripped an invisible cloth off of an invisible figure. Soon a green–eyed boy was blinking up at her.

"Harry!" Ginny exclaimed in a strange combination of a whisper and a roar. The boy continued to blink nervously. His eyes shimmer when he blinks, Ginny noticed. Her chewed–down nails ran across the now visible cloth.

"What'd I do? I was only sleeping…" Harry hummed snatches of a Beatles tune. He was half–asleep, the poor soul. "G'night," he muttered unintelligibly as he slumber stole him.

Ginny smiled and sat down next to him. Twirling a few strands of her fiery locks around her finger, she decided the Room of Requirement would have to wait for another day. She settled down next to Harry and drifted off to sleep. A certain four–eyed Gryffindor peeked through his lashes and grinned in his sleep.

A/N: Okay. Sorry about the filler chapter. I know I suck. BUT I am putting my foot down. I know it's cruel. I know it's mean. I know I will rot in hell. But NO MORE CHAPTERS until I get AT LEAST FIVE REVIEWS! Five. I think that is a more than reasonable number. I know barely anyone reads this fic, but tell your friends. Tell your split personality. You can say: "OMG! That btch Laurel K. at is all 'review or die'." Whatever. I do feel bad, but I NEED your HELP. As I said before: "Tell me your ideas, corrections, typos, questions, feedback, predictions, thoughts, EVERYTHING (regarding the story)!" Please! I just want five. Seven would be nice. But I gotta face reality. So, that's your homework. Review.

Love,

Laurel

P.S. Thanks to mysteries green fairy (I hope you got my message in reply), A. Lynn the Poet (thanks for your info! You're so sweet!), and Marie Fay (you rock), for reviewing. I love you guys, you make my day. Which is nice, I need a day made once in a while.

P.P.S. If anyone really wants me to read and review their story, just ask! I'll be happy to.