Complications

Dear Whatever Your Name Happens To Be,

Although I am flattered that you have taken such an interest in me and sent me all these flowers, I must ask you to desist. I have no interest in forming a relationship with someone who refuses to tell me his name and resorts to the covert method of getting my dorm mates to deliver flowers for him when I supposedly won't notice. I really am grateful for the flowers, but this has gone far enough. Do not contact me in this method again, please.

Sincerely,

Ginny Weasley

"There," said Ginny, handing the sealed note to Lizzie Jaster. "Please give that to him."

"What?" Lizzie gasped, clearly surprised.

The redhead rolled her eyes impatiently. "Don't think I haven't noticed you smuggling all those flowers into our dorm."

"Oh," Lizzie's face burned.

When the still bushing girl was about to head down to breakfast, Ginny add for good measure, "And tell him I mean it, too."

It was no good to think regretfully of that one, perfect kiss in the dark. No. All that was finished now, Ginny was sure.

"Damn," said Draco Malfoy some time later when he had read and reread Ginny's note. "What now, Blaise?"

"Now," his friend replied, "You have to seduce her as Draco, heir to the Malfoy estate, which might be a little harder.

"Too right," Draco said, thinking of the glare she'd given him when he had helped her with her dropped book bag the day before.

Recalling the look on her face, he frowned to himself, then muttered one word.

"Bugger."

Haronmione Wepottenger

Ginny felt lonely. For all she was spending her free time with the golden trio, she felt -- cut off. Lonely. She wanted her own friends, not her brother's. But if she sat alone at a meal, then something very strange seemed to happen to all the boys in vicinity. They went sort of . . . dozy. Yes. That must be the reason behind the near-drooling.

Mustn't it?

Did it matter since she was -- God Lord! -- supposed to have met up with Harry, Ron, and Hermione in Hogsmeade ten minutes ago and she hadn't even left yet!?

"Bugger."

The Potion Master's Revenge

"Sit down, Potter."

Harry gulped.

"Stop whimpering, boy. I'm not going to cut your throat."

Harry sighed in relief.

A pause.

"Not when there are more expedient methods of killing you at hand."

Harry shuddered.

Snape smiled.

Harry leaned back.

Snape leaned forward across his desk.

Harry knew it was the end.

Snape narrowed his eyes.

Harry closed his own eyes. Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to . . .

Harry couldn't remember any more of the words.

Harry was going to die with a lot of things on his conscience.

Harry . . . wasn't going to have to do his Transfiguration homework if he died! Score!

Harry opened his eyes.

Snape still glared.

Harry realized that dying might not be so great after all.

Harry felt a sudden and Hermione-ish love of all things long and essay-like.

Snape smirked.

"Just my little joke, Mr. Potter."

Harry almost sighed in relief, but then he remembered what had happened the last time he tried that.

"You'll be pickling flobberworm entrails for your detention tonight, Potter. You may begin now."

Harry grimaced.

Snape giggled maniacally.

Harry gaped.

Snape stopped very suddenly.

"I thought I told you to begin your detention, Potter."

"Y-y-y-yes, y-yes, of-of c-our-rse, P-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-prof-f-f-f-f-f-f-fessor."

Harry stood up and walked over to the barrel of flobberworms.

Harry picked one up.

Harry gave it a tentative squeeze.

Harry opened his fist and stared at the mush that now covered his palm.

Snape started giggling again.

Harry wished he wouldn't.

Harry counted the jars of pickling potion that were set out on the table for him to fill.

"Bugger."

The Agony of Pansy-Flower

"D'you want to go beat up some first years, Paaaaaaaansy-Floooooower?" Goyle crooned.

'Pansy-Flower' punched him in the gut.

He took the hint for all of five seconds.

"D'you want to go make out in the Great Hall, Paaaaaaaansy-Floooooower?" Goyle hummed, and licked her ear.

"Ugh!!" Pansy shrieked, punching him in the nose.

Goyle thought for a moment. It made his head hurt, so he tried thinking with his foot for a while. It made his toes go to sleep. He tried with his stomach. It just growled at him. He gave up. He listened to the other Slytherins for a minute. When in doubt, imitate.

"Do . . . you . . . " Goyle pronounced with difficulty, "Whant. . . .I mean, want . . . to go make out in the. . . the . . . the Astro-noomy Tower," on home territory at last, Goyle let the final words bellow out, " PAAAAAAAANSY-FLOOOOOOWER?"

Pansy was deeply impressed. She hadn't known that he was capable of saying such a long word as 'Astronomy.'

"You know what?" she said. "Sure. I'm bored anyway. You lead the way."

Goyle grinned in triumph, then his brow furrowed again.

"What now?" Pansy practically wailed. And things had been going so well for . . . a second.

Goyle sighed despondently. "I don't know the way to the . . . Ass-i-snot-omeeeee Tower.

"You complete nincompoop!" she shrieked. "You've been taking Astronomy for seven whole years and you don't know where the class room is yet? Oh, I'll lead then."

With and impatient sigh, Pansy tugged Goyle out of the Slytherin common room by the hand. When they reached the main floor, she stopped, frozen.

She had just realized that she didn't know where the Astronomy Tower was either.

"Bugger."

Another Word With Doctor Blaise

"So what next, d'you s'pose?"

"Well, you need to find some way of getting into contact with her that she can't do away with."

"Got an idea!"

"What?"

"Blackmail."

"Blackmail?"

"Blackmail."

"How many school rules do you think we've broken by now? What with all the blackmailing, seduction, and panting after Gryffindors?"

"I think it would be easier to count the ones we haven't broken to be hon-- hang on, panting after Gryffindors is aginst school rules?"

"It is for Slytherins."

"True."

"And Draco?"

"What?"

"You really aught to have left for Hogsmeade five minutes ago."

"Bugger."

Sorry, Dear

Ron was in trouble with Hermione again. Why did that always happen?

Well, he knew why it had happened this time, but why every time?

He'd just been leaning over to kiss her, smelling the butter beer on her breath. He loved being so near to her that he could actually name every single food she'd had for breakfast, even if he didn't know already which he did because, well, because he was a very observant person. Thats right, he was observant. Whatever Harry might say (that was, when he wasn't in detention like now) Ron was not obsessed.

Not even a little.

Not a smidgen.

Not a jot.

Not a -- oh, hell. So what if he was obsessed? It's a free country.

He'd leaned forward, and smelled the butter beer on her breath. Just before their lips had touched, however, it occurred to his Hermione-befuddled brain that all of Hogsmeade smelled like butter beer, and it was the best smell in the world (apart from Hermione's own, personal, Hermione-smell). Unfortunately, his mind, which seemed to have disconnected long before that point, completely jumped ship and somehow allowed his mouth to garble out the words, "You smell like Hogsmeade."

Unfortunately for Ron, it garbled in a rather audible way.

"Yousmellikehogsme . . . "

Hermione had pulled away, affronted.

"I beg your pardon? Hogs?"

Ron, his lips still tingling in anticipation of the kiss they now would certainly not be getting for a good long while, could have kicked himself.

"Sorry, dear, I --"

"Oh, never mind." she scowled at him. "Let's go meet Ginny and the Three Broomsticks like we promised."

As she stomped through the milling crowd ahead of them, Ron muttered a highly disapproved-of (by both his mother and his Hermione) word to himself.

"Bugger."

Ginny's Amazing Apoplectic Rage Remover -- Or Was That Apoplectic Rage Inducer?

"Hey, Weasley, Weasley," a voice called behind Ginny as she sprinted into the Tree Broomsticks, twenty minutes late and panting from her run.

She turned to see the last person she needed right now: Draco Malfoy.

"Go away," she said rudely, and moved farther in, looking for the others.

"I think you'd better listen to me, Weasley."

"Do you really." She had just spotted her brother and Hermione -- no Harry, though -- sitting at a table a few paces away. They looked up at her and waved.

Anger was coiling inside Draco. Couldn't she even do him the courtesy of looking at him? He knew it was irrational. But what the hell did he care if it was irrational? He hadn't planned to do it like this. But what the hell did he care about his plans now? He would do it just the way he pleased. But what the hell did he care if he did it what ever way pleased? He --

Draco decided to get his thoughts out of their loop by acting on his impulse.

"So you'd like it if I told your brother" -- Ron's head jerked up; he listened intently--" about all the letters and flow--"

Ginny panicked. She did the only think of to shut his mouth really, really quickly before he told Ron about the secret admirer -- goodness knew how Malfoy had found out!-- and kissed him.

Right in front of the whole pub.

Right in front of all the students she would have to face again very soon.

Right in front of Hermione.

Right in front of, dear Lord, her brother.

And she enjoyed it too.

Even as her mind screamed Oh my God, ugh! I'm kissing a Slytherin!! her lips moved softly against his, and she noticed a certain smell about him, like ice and cinnamon.

In an instant, all of Draco's rage vanished. He didn't know where this had come from, but he wasn't going to complain.

A loud cough made them break apart abruptly. Ron stood before them, a shattered mug in his hand, his face as red as a sun-burned beet.

Ginny and Draco looked at each other and, in unison, they spoke one, highly appropriate word.

"Bugger."